


Tiptoeing Around Everything Important

by shcrlockholmcs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Eventual Sex, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Tony Stark, Jealous Steve Rogers, Jealous Tony Stark, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Past Tony Stark/Tiberius Stone, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Suicidal Thoughts, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2020-05-14 01:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 59,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19263631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shcrlockholmcs/pseuds/shcrlockholmcs
Summary: What if Thanos never caught on to the Time Heist?What if Tony and Pepper got a divorce?And what if Steve and Tony finally found their way towards each other?The Time Heist goes smoothly and everyone is brought back, but Steve still feels like something is missing. When his dearest friends seem to know something that he doesn't, how might he find his way to living a life that doesn't feel empty?And when Tony's life gets turned upside down, how might he avoid letting the darkness inside him consume him altogether?





	1. Chapter One

Steve had been running on the trails surrounding the Avengers compound for over two hours. It was early Saturday morning and he had nothing better to do. The only thing he could hear at this point was the sound of his own feet against the ground and the few birds beginning to chirp as the sun rose.

It had been a little over a month since they successfully pulled of the Time Heist, as Scott had named it.

Well, successful was tenuous at best.

They had lost Clint in the process and Bruce had gotten severely injured snapping everyone back.

They say we won—they didn’t say what we lost.

His own words after waking up from the ice rang in his mind.

Crunch.

Crunch.

Crunch.

The sound of his own running steps against the ground felt overwhelming. His heart ached for the loss of his friend Clint. The plan had been to bring everyone back, not lose someone else in the process. It was bittersweet—but it always mostly felt bitter to lose a soldier—a friend.

It was still achingly fresh in his mind—the moment they all came back to 2023 and Nat, falling to her knees, sobbing. Steve was certain her tears did not stop for days while Tony, Bruce, and Rocket worked on building the Iron Gauntlet.

But even that pain paled in comparison to the agony of having to explain to Clint’s family what happened. Laura’s pain, anger, confusion—her fists against Steve’s chest while he tried to calmly explain and answer her questions that really had no fair answer.

Clint’s kids wanting to see “Auntie Nat” and Laura’s refusal.

A month later it seemed like Laura had forgiven Natasha—she was visiting the kids regularly and had taken over Clint’s routine of training them in simple combat skills. But the wounds were still there.

God, were they still there.

The beauty of having the others back—Bucky, Sam, T’Challa—everyone—truly should outweigh the pain Steve was feeling, but it just failed to. He could not make peace with getting things back if it meant someone else had to lose everything. It felt like yesterday he lost Peggy and it often did not take much to open that wound. He knew Laura would live a similar life—always one trigger away from that all-consuming pain.

He slowed his pace as he reached one of the main doors to the compound. Though he was not really out of breath, he hunched over, hands on his knees, breathing in deeply. He figured he probably ran over ten miles and it was only sunrise.

“If you were going for a run you could have let me know,” Sam’s voice carried from behind him. Steve turned around and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry bud, needed to think.”

“I can run in silence, you know.”

“Yeah well, you can’t really keep up though, can you?”

“Yeah, well, you don’t always have to run like you have super serum in your veins, do ya?”

Steve laughed as Sam walked over to him and they walked inside together.

“And where exactly where you coming from, anyway?” he asked.

“A run, from the other trails on the other side of the compound,” Sam replied. “See? We might as well have run together anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Steve replied, pouring them both a glass of water once they reached the kitchen.

“So what’s on your mind?” Sam asked, raising a dubious eyebrow in Steve’s direction.

Steve regretted how easily all of his friends saw through him.

“Lots,” was his short reply.

“Alright, you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But you don’t want to talk about most things these days, Steve. You’re lost in that head of yours more than I’ve ever seen.”

Sam’s words cut him to the core, because he knew they were true. And Sam was not the first person to say that to him within the last month—within the last 24 hours, even. Bucky, Nat, and Wanda had all echoed similar sentiments.

He wished that he had a concrete answer for them, but all he knew was that it felt like he owed it to Clint to start living a fuller life for him—in his honor. But the tangible manifestation of that escaped him. A family, a white picket fence—that was the dream in the time he came from and he had seen that possibility with Peggy.

But now, in this world he lived in, that was never something he hoped for. That man went down in the ice. A different one woke up.

Or maybe it was not quite that, but that his concept of a family, a partnership—life entirely—had evolved. The Avengers had been his family for a long time now. And a white picket fence was no longer his ideal, but the Avengers compound had become the place he was happiest.

So, maybe a home and a family still mattered to him after all.

Then why does it still feel empty?

“Hey uh, earth to Steve?”

“Oh, sorry Sam.” Steve blinked and adjusted his focus back on his friend. “I got lost in thought.”

“Yeah that’s uh, been my entire point,” Sam chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized again. “I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t really have one for myself. I just know that I feel empty, but I know I shouldn’t. We succeeded. We brought everyone back. And here I am…and my heart hurts.”

“You’re lonely,” Sam said, taking a sip of his water.

“What? I’m not lonely. I’ve got you guys.”

“Steve,” Sam said, exasperated. He set the glass down and leaned forward on the kitchen’s island, to give Steve a stern look in the eyes, as he stood on the other side. “You’re a hopeless romantic at heart. You went into the water in love with Peggy and woke up alone. You’re lonely because you miss romantic companionship. I’m not an idiot—you kissed Sharon right in front of me.”

Well, shit.

He may have forgotten the minor detail about kissing Sharon in front of his two closest friends, who still never let him live that down.  
“Okay, well, you may have a little bit of a point there,” Steve conceded, hands up in defeat. “But even if that’s what I want, I don’t know how to date in the 21st century. And I’m not exactly connected with anyone outside of the Avengers.”

“Maybe you don’t have to be,” Sam countered. “Wanda’s single. Maria Hill’s single. Sharon’s around somewhere—maybe she’d like to give it a—“

“You know Sharon is off the table Sam. You know we tried—after the snap—you know it didn’t work.”

Sam shrugged.

“Carol’s single—aw man! Think of that—the two Captains together,” Sam beamed, far too excited about the supposed brilliance of his idea.

“Carol’s a lesbian, Sam.”

“Awww damn. I mean, good for her. Not for you though,” he laughed and Steve joined in.

“Anyway, I’m not dating Wanda or Maria, Sam. But thanks for the effort,” he said, laughing.

“What are you two idiots up to?” Bucky yelled, jogging down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“We’re about two seconds away from making Steve a Tinder account,” Sam joked.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and walked over to them, leaning on the opposite end of the kitchen island.

“Is that so?” he said between laughs.

“No, we’re not,” Steve said sternly, frowning at Sam.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. Your crush ain’t on Tinder anyway,” Bucky commented, opening the fridge and taking out a plum.

Sam laughed again and Steve felt extremely left out of the joke.

“What?”

Bucky took a bite of the plum, and through his chews said, “Buddy, if you don’t know what I mean I ain’t gonna be the one to tell you. You gotta figure that shit out yourself.”

~

  
Bucky’s words haunted him for the rest of that day—even when he was sparring with Nat in the gym. At one point he got so lost replaying Bucky’s comment in his mind that Nat seamlessly landed a right hook.

“Come on Cap, you’re getting slow in your old age,” she said, breathless.

Steve just laughed, stepping under the ropes and out of the ring. He wiped the sweat off of his brow and took a giant chug of water before responding to her.

“Something Bucky said is just weighing on me, I guess.”

“Oh god, what did my idiot boyfriend say now?” She asked, following Steve’s lead out of the ring and spraying some water from her bottle onto her face.

Steve paused, wondering if he really should elaborate or if it was too risky to keep bringing this up with everyone he talked to today. Just a couple hours earlier he had discussed it with Wanda too. It was probably a mistake to keep discussing the same topic with everyone in the Avengers, because he knew word spread fast, and some secrets rarely stayed secrets among his friends. Gossip was a hot commodity.

“Alright well, Bucky said that my crush wouldn’t be on a dating app and I just don’t understand that. I don’t have a crush?” he said, but the last part felt like a question. He was not aware of a crush, but it seemed that everyone else was.

Nat sighed a heavy sigh.

“Oh Steve, I’m gonna let you figure that one out on your own.”

~

  
By the next morning Steve had decided to let Bucky’s comment go and not hyper fixate on it anymore. It all felt like too much of an inside joke Sam, Nat, and Bucky were playing on him and he did not want to encourage it. Instead, Steve spent the majority of his Sunday helping Wanda and Thor clean up the living and dining rooms for Family Dinner.

Every Sunday night was Family Dinner at the Avengers compound. Tony had invested in a long dinner table to seat everyone after the Time Heist. Most Sundays almost everyone made it—even those who were traveling out in space would make time for Family Dinner. It was something they all ended up taking pretty seriously after recovering from the snap. Losing everyone had given them a renewed sense of how important they all were to each other. Steve loved it.

Tonight Steve only had to set nine spaces—Tony, Bucky, Sam, Nat, Peter, Wanda, Bruce, Thor, and Scott were the only ones RSVP’d to show up. Carol and Valkyrie were out exploring a potential threat to a Skrull refugee base, the Guardians were off on a mission, Wakanda was hosting foreign diplomats, and everyone else had vague prior commitments.

Scott and Nat started piling the table full with the food they had cooked. Everyone was present except Tony and Peter. Steve assumed Tony had stopped to pick up Peter on the way, and even if he hadn’t, Tony was rarely on time.

“Where’s Stark?” Thor asked, never one to shy away from asking the obvious questions.

“You know he likes to be fashionably late,” was Bucky’s sarcastic reply.

But Steve could hear Tony’s Audi revving from miles away and he smirked.

“He’s here,” was all he said.

Moments later Tony and Peter burst through the doors and into the kitchen. Tony held his arms out like a faux savior.

“Don’t worry, I’m here,” he said, smirking.

“Sorry—it wasn’t really Mr. Stark’s fault we were late. It was mine and then we hit traffic on the way here and—“

“Kid, it’s fine,” Steve said, clasping his hand on Peter’s shoulder and smiling at him. “You’re only a few minutes late and dinner just got put on the table anyway.”

“Okay, phew, I just didn’t want you guys to think I was being disrespectful,” Peter sighed, relieved.

“Hey Peter, remind me to teach you about something called being fashionably late, later,” Tony said, pulling out a chair to sit down between Nat and Scott—across from Steve.

~

  
Three large glasses of wine later and Tony was in top form. He had the entire table laughing with just about every other comment. It was clear that this was the happiest and the lightest he had felt in a while.

Maybe I’ve not been the only one feeling weighed down.

Steve thought.

He did not realize that he was staring at Tony until he felt a gaze steady on him—he looked over and it was Bucky giving him a skeptical look. He felt his cheeks redden.

And it was in that moment that he got an inkling to what Bucky said the other day.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in Tony's life are beginning to fall apart and a certain darkness is beginning to loom over him.

Tony finished the last drop of his fourth glass of wine for the evening and the warmth had finally spread throughout his body. He felt lighter and happier than he had in what seemed like ages. But in reality, it was the happiest he had been since he hugged Peter when he came back from the snap.

He refused to fully admit just how badly things went downhill after they successfully pulled off the Time Heist. However, everyone else around him never missed a chance to point out how off Tony was behaving.

_“Hey Tony, you’d tell me if something was up, right?” Rhodey had asked just two days prior._

_“What? Yeah, of course,” Tony had shrugged off, not even bothering to look up from what he was working on._

_But he could feel Rhodey’s frown from across the room._

_"Tony, I’m not an idiot.”_

_“Never said you were, buddy.”_

_“Look—I’ve noticed you and Pepper aren’t spending much time together these days. And when you do, you’re short with each other.”_

_Tony still would not look up._

_“Tony—we have been friends for literally decades now. You can tell me if you’re having marital problems.”_

_Finally, reluctantly, he looked up at his friend._

_“It was supposed to let me rest,” he said softly._

_“What?” Rhodey asked, encouraging him to go on._

_"The Time Heist, once it was done, I was supposed to feel fulfilled—able to rest. Mission complete. But, I don’t. Because I know there will always be work to be done and I can’t just sit by and pretend like the world doesn’t need protecting.”_

_“And I take it Pepper isn’t too thrilled about that?”_

_"_ _She hoped…that bringing Peter back, that it would quiet my mind, let me focus just on family. And Pepper and Morgan, I love them so much, I do, but…”_

_"I know Tony, I get it.”_

“And that’s when he turned around and tripped over the waiter, causing the shrimp cocktails to go flying everywhere,” Tony finished his story, grinning, as everyone around the dinner table laughed.

“Oh my god Mr. Stark, I can’t believe that happened,” Peter said through tears, he was laughing so hard.

“Alright, that’s enough lude stories in front of the children,” Nat said, smirking, and nodding towards Peter and Scott. This only caused Tony to start chuckling.

“That was an amazing story, Tony,” Scott added in, looking as enamored as ever, as if he still did not believe he belonged at this table with all his heroes.

Sam and Bucky got up and started clearing the table, while the others continued their conversation. Once the table was cleaned off and Wanda went to help the boys do the dishes, Tony stood up to stretch, stumbling to the side in the process.

“Mr. Stark, I’m not sure you should drive tonight,” Peter whispered too loudly to be considered a whisper.

Steve was on Tony’s side of the table in what seemed to be faster than the speed of light, holding him and looking as concerned as ever.

“Tony, you can stay here tonight. We’ve got plenty of room—your room is still empty and filled with your extra stuff,” he said.

“Nah, that’s not necessary. My car is advanced enough to autopilot us home.”

“Tony, I insist.”

“Cap—“

“If not for me, for the kid’s safety.”

That successfully shut Tony up. He looked over at Peter.

“Let May know you’re staying here tonight, okay?”

When Peter walked off to call May, Tony turned to look at Steve who was still in his personal bubble and holding onto him as if he might fall over otherwise.

“Hey uh, Cap, I’m not so drunk that I’m just gonna collapse right here—you know that, right?” Tony teased, smirking.

Steve’s cheeks flushed and he backed away quickly.

“Sorry, Tony.”

“Hate to break up your moment, but Steve and I have a training session,” Bucky cut in, drying his hands with a small towel from washing the dishes.

Steve clapped a hand on Tony’s shoulder and gave him a serious, intense look.

“I’ll see you later, Tony.” And with that he left with Bucky, the two laughing about some inside joke that made a green jealous monster in the base of Tony’s spine awaken.

He actively decided to ignore the swirl of anxious energy Steve’s purposeful gaze gave him just seconds earlier.

 

~

 

Tony’s room at the compound was exactly as he had left it. Tidy. Two large bookcases full of his extra books, a dresser with a back-up wardrobe, a large desk with two monitors, and his adjacent bathroom full of all his go-to toiletries.

He went into the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and washed his face. When he caught his own eyes in the mirror he froze.

He was exhausted.

He was at a loss of how to tell anyone that he and Pepper were separated. And on top of that, how could he possibly explain that he felt relieved?

Relieved that maybe he would not have to spend every other evening arguing with Pepper—having to decide between his spouse and the work he loves so dearly.

But there was that simultaneous feeling that in some way he would ruin Morgan’s life if he and Pepper did not work things out and stay together.

Every time he began thinking about his marriage and his daughter it sent him into a dangerous and dark spiral. He had been late to picking up Peter tonight because he and Pepper had gotten into it over the phone beforehand. And god, the kid had flawlessly and selflessly covered for him when they got to the compound. Peter continued to surprise him.

Tony knew he should not have had so many glasses of wine—everyone else only had a single glass or no wine at all. But he was past the point of embarrassment—he was desperate to numb the pain he was feeling.

He remembered his spiral just a couple evenings prior.

_Pepper had just finished packing to temporarily move into the Avengers Tower in the city. She had told Tony that it would be best for them to have physical distance—especially for Morgan, that they couldn’t keep trying to hide their fights from her._

_Tony knew she was right. He did not argue otherwise. Morgan had walked in on their fights more than once._

_He was finishing his fifth glass of scotch when Morgan snuck her way into his office._

_"Daddy?” her small voice whispered, her small hand on his bicep seemingly out of nowhere._

_“Hey sweetie,” he replied, pushing the glass away from him on the desk, and swiveling in his chair to place her in his lap. “What’s up?”_

_“Daddy—you’ve been really sad.”_

_She was frowning deeply and it broke his heart in two._

_“Yeah—yeah I have.”_

_“I’m sorry Mommy has been making you sad.”_

_Tony let out a hallow laugh._

_“Oh honey—it’s not that simple.”_

_“It’s okay daddy. I think the space will be good for you. Maybe it is better if you and Mommy don’t live together.”_

_“What?” Tony asked, mildly horrified by what his young daughter was saying._

_“My friend Jeremy at school, his parents live separately. He even has two mommies and daddies now. He says it is much better since they moved out. Maybe you need a desource like Jeremy’s parents,” Morgan explained, calmly, and far too wise for her age._

_"The word you’re looking for it divorce, sweetie,” Tony replied, unable to think of anything more coherent than that._

_“Okay. I love you daddy,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tight. “You smell like scotch.”_

_Her nose was wrinkled in disgust when she pulled back, but she still placed a kiss on his cheek._

_"_ _I love you too, Morguna.”_

His chest felt tight.

_When did I start crying?_

He stared at his reflection in the mirror, tears rolling down his face—the exhaustion apparent.

“Mr. Stark?”

Peter’s voice coming from his room snapped him out of it.

“Yeah?” he called back, trying to wipe the tears away before the kid saw him like that.

But it was too late—Peter stood in the bathroom doorway with worry across his face.

“Tony—what’s wrong?”

“Come on kid, let’s go chat,” Tony said, walking over and wrapping an arm around Peter’s shoulders to steer him back into the bedroom.

They sat on the edge of Tony’s massive bed, side by side, quiet for several long moments.

“Mr. Stark, you can talk to me—you know that, right?” Peter’s voice was so earnest it practically snapped Tony’s heart in two.

Maybe talking to Peter was exactly what he needed, maybe not, but either way he was too drunk to know the difference at this point.

“I think Pepper and I are done, kid.”

“Oh—I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m not—that’s the worst part, I think.”

Peter shifted to face Tony.

“Sometimes it is better to not stay together, I think.”

Tony frowned, turning to look at Peter in return.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean think about it, Mr. Stark. Your parents stayed together even though your dad sort of sucked. And you suffered because of how unhappy they were.”

“I’m not my father, Peter—“

“No, no, no! Sorry, I wasn’t trying to say that,” Peter responded, panicked. “No, what I mean is just—that if you two are going to be happier not being together, like that, then it is what’s best for both of you. And Morgan. Cause it is not going to be good for her to grow up with her parents unhappy together, you know?”

“But I’m breaking apart our family, Peter.”

“I think sometimes we forget that families don’t have to look just one way. You guys are still a family, even if you and Pepper aren’t together, that doesn’t change that you’re Morgan’s parents and that you love her. You guys can do that…uhhhh, what’s it called? Co-parenting?”

“Sometimes you’re more intelligent than me, you know that kid?”

Peter just shrugged, trying to stifle the smile on his lips for the sake of staying serious in the moment.

“I’m just saying, there might be hope, that not everything has to be ruined even if things are different,” Peter said, standing up. Tony stood up too, and before Peter could react, he pulled him into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Goodnight, Peter,” Tony said, letting him go.

“Goodnight Tony,” Peter replied, smiling softly, and closing the bedroom door as he left.

 

~

It was three in the morning and Tony still could not sleep. He had fallen asleep for less than an hour and had woken up in a cold sweat—plagued by nightmares of his marital failures and Pepper accusing him of being his father.

He sat up in bed and swung his legs over the side. Sighing deeply, he went into the bathroom to wash his face and pee before pulling on sweatpants and a tank top.

Tony left his room and wandered into the kitchen. He went to the bar and poured himself a glass of scotch. The golden liquid warmed his throat all the way down to his stomach. It was like an instantaneous fix—he already felt more at ease and peaceful. Nothing beat the sensation of a good glass of scotch sliding down his tongue. He had once called it a “heavenly elixir” and had yet to think of a better name for it.

Three glasses in and Tony began to spiral into an existential pit of hopelessness again.

He sat at the kitchen island on a barstool, head in his hands, rotating between seething with anger and openly weeping. Images of the arguments between his mother and father haunted his memory—seeing Howard throw empty beer bottles and shout while his mom wept—it had a lasting impact on him.

The only sliver of hope he was holding onto was that, unlike his father, he never laid a hand on Pepper nor did he physically lash out on anything else. He supposed he should be grateful that their arguments were verbal and that was it.

Before he knew it, he was sobbing again and staring at another empty glass.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice cut through the sound of his own tears.

Tony’s heart dropped, even as drunk as he was, he felt shame for the state he was in.

“Oh Tony,” Steve said, his heart breaking at the sight of his friend. He walked over and stared at him with nothing but concern in his eyes—no judgment, no anger. Tony had almost hoped for those two things, because it was harder to be loved and cared for right now.

“Damn your super serum hearing, Cap,” Tony laughed, empty, and still full of tears. He wiped his eyes and running nose on the inside of his tank top in a desperate attempt to clean himself up. He was not entirely sure why he felt so embarrassed for Steve to see him in a disheveled state, but he was.

Steve grabbed the empty scotch glass and put it in the sink. He went over to the counter and grabbed some paper towel.

“Here,” he offered.

Tony smiled weakly and took the paper towels, wiping his face clean before tossing it in the trash can a few feet away.

“Thanks Cap.”

“Come on Tony, let’s get you to bed,” Steve said, wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulders and helping him stand up.

Tony leaned into Steve completely but his smaller frame was easy for him to support. They got to Tony’s room and Steve helped him into bed. He stepped away and returned with a glass of water and a bottle of Tylenol that he set on Tony’s bedside table.

“You’ll need that in the morning,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” Tony said, his voice wavering. He did not deserve the kindness Steve was showing him.

“Tony…” Steve started. “If you need anything…Please. Let me know.”

“Kay.”

Steve turned off all the lights and turned to leave, but before he could, Tony spoke up again.

“Actually, Steve?”

“Yeah, Tony?”

“Can you uh…can you stay here? In my room, I mean? I don’t…I don’t want to be alone,” he asked, voice small, timid—two things Steve had never associated with Tony’s voice before.

Hearing Tony sound like that cracked his heart in two and hallowed scooped out every good feeling he had ever experienced. Saying no was not an option—despite the way it made something at the base of his spine swirl.

“Sure, Tony, of course.”

“The bed’s big enough—you can—“

“Yeah, sure,” Steve whispered, slowly and carefully slipping into the empty side of Tony’s bed. He laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, rigid.

 His primary concern was to not disturb Tony—to not invade his personal space. He clasped his hands on his chest and listened closely to the other man’s breathing. It was not long before he could tell Tony had fallen asleep.

 Steve was simply happy to have been able to provide Tony some comfort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I promise this is angst with a happy ending. It is not going to be an easy ride, but the rewards are worth it, I swear. :) Please comment and share, it means the world to me!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's darkness swallows him further and his friends attempt to help him out of it.

When Tony woke up the next morning Steve had already left his room and his headache was so severe he couldn’t see straight.

“Ughhhh—god,” he groaned, reaching for the glass of water and bottle of Tylenol. He took four.

After showering, brushing his teeth, and slipping into clean sweatpants and a Stark Industries black tee, Tony stumbled his way out into the living room. Steve, Nat, and Bruce were sitting around the coffee table in a huddle with hushed voices.

“If you’ve got something to say, you can share it with the rest of the class,” Tony said, snarky as ever, despite his brutal hangover.

The fact that they all quit talking the moment Tony spoke up did not help his social anxiety.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and walked over, sitting in an armchair, crossing his legs and draping an arm over the back of the chair. Tony took a long, loud, sip of his coffee. When no one said anything, he raised his eyebrows so high they nearly disappeared into his hair.

“So, what secrets are we keeping?”

“I took Peter home this morning so you don’t have to worry about him,” Nat started, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees. She looked concerned.

Tony couldn’t fathom why.

“You didn’t need to do that.”

“I think I did.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Well, Pepper called this morning,” Bruce started and Tony’s face fell, his heart dropped.

He knew it was prideful to feel this way—but he wanted to share the updates of his private life with his friends when he determined he was ready to. Tony knew that logically they were Pepper’s friends too and it was also her news to share at her own discretion. But the Avengers—as selfish as it was—they were _his_ and he wanted to make the call.

But that option was taken away from him now. He instantly kicked into ‘downplay’ mode without realizing.

“It’s not a big deal,” he said, shrugging and drinking some more coffee.

Steve frowned.

“Tony…she uh, she told Bruce—she told us that she moved out with Morgan. And that you guys have filed for a divorce. That sounds like a big deal,” Steve’s voice was soft, but stern at the same time. He was trying to simultaneously convey his concern and the gravity of the situation.

“Sorry Cap, hate to break it to ya, but it’s my family life, my personal life—I know if it’s a big deal to me or not,” Tony snapped.

“Tony—Steve’s just trying to be supportive. We all are. I hate to break it to _you_ but you’re not exactly in a position to cast your friends to the side right now,” Nat said, invoking a far more serious tone.

“If anyone is being cast to the side, it’s me,” Tony snapped, standing up and starting to walk out of the room. He paused before he was completely out of their earshot, turning around to get one last word in, “You know—if you want to care about me, maybe you ask me my side of things instead of coming at me with information given to you by the woman I am _divorcing._ ”

He slammed his empty coffee cup on the kitchen counter before retreating back into his room.

“Well…that went about as well as I expected,” Bruce said, shrugging.

“Why wouldn’t he tell us?” Steve asked, not bothering to mask the betrayal in his voice.

“It’s clear he’s hurting—he’s put all of this on his own shoulders, like he always does, because he thinks everything is his responsibility. Despite what Pepper told us, he’s blaming himself anyway, and drinking himself into a pit in the process,” Nat explained. 

“I know his dad had a problem with alcohol and Tony’s had his struggles in the past too, but I didn’t expect this—not now,” Bruce sighed. “I guess it goes to show it doesn’t matter what good things in your life you have that are worth fighting for—sometimes the depression inside you eats that all away from your mind.”

“So, what do we do?” Steve’s desperation was clear.

In a perfect world, Steve would pick Tony up, wrap him in a blanket, and make all his fears and doubts about his ability as a friend, a father, and an Avenger disappear. He wished he could be the soothing balm to Tony’s aching and wounded heart. It was not until this morning that he realized just how much seeing Tony fall apart, alone in the kitchen with a nearly empty bottle of scotch, affected him.

When Steve gently peeled himself out of Tony’s bed and wandered into the living room, his spirit shattered. It crushed him to see Tony crying—something he had never witnessed before even in all their years of friendship.

And after Pepper called it all made sense to him. He was devastated on Tony’s behalf. And furious on his behalf, too.

“I have an idea, but he won’t like it very much,” Nat said, breaking Steve out of his train of thought.

 

~

 

Tony was seething with anger.

Anger he knew was irrational.

But that did not stop him from allowing it to completely consume him. 

He walked over to his closet and pulled out a bottle of Sandeman 30 Year Old Tawny whiskey he had stashed away. There was no point in using a glass—he popped it open and drank straight from the bottle. 

Every drink turned down the volume on Tony’s self-destructive thoughts. The burn of the amber liquid steadied him—it gave him just enough, a drop’s worth of ability, to go on. As a teenager the fire of alcohol used to make him recoil, but now Tony craved its singe as it poured down his throat. It felt like home.

Tony had no clue how much time had passed between the opening of the bottle and when Steve knocked on his door, but he knew it had been at least an hour. 

“Come in,” Tony slurred, sounding too cheery for someone who had stormed out of the living room not long ago.

Steve cautiously peeked his head into Tony’s room—automatically spotting the bottle of whiskey on Tony’s side table. Steve’s stomach clenched. This was not going to be easy with Tony inebriated. 

“Hey Tony,” he said, slowly approaching him and sitting on the edge of his bed. Tony was sitting upright near his headboard, legs crossed, smiling. 

“Yes, Cap? And why exactly am I blessed with your presence on this fine day?”

It took a few minutes for Steve to work up the courage to start this conversation with Tony. Anxiety was not something he had felt often in his life, but whenever he did, he found it usually involved Tony. He was someone incredibly important to Steve—so important that he was sure he had failed to ever properly articulate the gravity of Tony’s significance in his life. And ever since the battle at Hydra’s Siberian facility, Steve felt compelled to handle his relationship with Tony as if it were the most precious and fragile thing on earth.

“So, we think it would be a good idea if you moved in here—the Avenger’s Compound—for a while,” Steve started, turning to face Tony. “It isn’t a good idea for you to live alone and wallow. We’re here for you Tony—we care.”

“You care?” Tony asked, forcing out a laugh. “You? Captain America—care—about me? Since when? I don’t remember you fucking caring about _me_ when you knew your old pal Buckaroo killed my parents.”

Tony scoffed. 

“Yeah—you know what, Cap? You can take your too-little-too-late caring and shove it right up your perfect star spangled ass.”

“Tony—I—“

“Get out of my room!”

 

~

 

“Yeah, that went about as well—“

“We heard,” Nat interjected, wincing. “We heard. All the way out here.”

“At least he still has clever insults even when drunk?” Bruce offered, a meager attempt to lighten the mood.

“So what next?” Steve asked, running the palm of his hand over his face.

“The hard part,” Nat sighed.

 

~

 

Steve laid awake all night with his ears eagerly listening for Tony. He knew it was not his responsibility to keep Tony away from the bar cart in the kitchen, but he felt the need to try. Plus, someone would probably need to restrain Tony’s drunken rage when he discovered Nat had removed all the alcohol and hidden it away.

The nausea swirled unrestrained in Steve’s empty stomach—he had not managed to eat all day due to the all-consuming worry. His head swam with half-formed regrets from long ago—from Siberia. The blood beating into Steve’s heart felt like tar—thick and heavy and slow. The whole world had slowed down the moment he realized Tony was hurting.

Generally speaking, Steve was giddy with optimism, but seeing Tony consumed by darkness wrecked him. A black cloud hung over him by proxy. He just wanted to help but Tony wanted the opposite. It was equally frustrating and devastating.

Tony’s words from earlier still stung.

Steve knew their half-hearted apology before the Time Heist was not sufficient. He had lived for years carrying the weight of his regret for what transpired between them. What apology could ever suffice for the unforgivable act of slamming his shield into Tony’s chest?

Regret was not something Steve ever bothered with—not since he landed in the ice. When he first woke up from it the regret of losing the life he had—Peggy, his friends—consumed him. But eventually he caught on, that a life dictated by regret, was not one worth living. He made a vow to himself not to become that person again.

And then he nearly killed Tony Stark in a fit of rage.

Sometimes, in his weakest moments, Steve imagined how things might have turned out if he had been honest with Tony about his parents long before they ever got to Siberia. He knew, without the shadow of a doubt, that Tony would have forgiven Bucky. He would have known it was Hydra and that Bucky was a pawn in their scheme. 

He knew that their fight was not about Bucky, but about Steve’s lie and by proxy—his betrayal.

Steve closed his eyes and used all the energy he had left to put his wish out into the world: 

_Please, let Tony be okay._

~

 

Even hungover, Tony was still not an idiot—he knew that his friends had removed the alcohol from all the public areas in the compound after catching onto his state of mind.

He did not have the energy to be angry about it.

Instead, he laid in bed, in complete darkness, unable to bear even the smallest sliver of light. His head was pounding with a steady ebb and flow that rivaled an axe chopping into wood. Just moments earlier he had thrown up so much that there was nothing left to come up except saliva. 

His mouth was cotton. His stomach was in excruciating pain. He knew he could numb the hangover with more alcohol, but his personal stash in his room was out, and he almost felt he deserved to feel the symptoms.

Tony’s thoughts spiraled pretty quickly the longer he laid there alone, head pounding, stomach aching. The false happiness that the alcohol provided had faded away hours ago. And now he was left grappling with the reality of his life—his failure to keep his marriage together. His mind played a reel of the worst moments between him and Pepper over the last year. With each argument or struggle, Tony’s mind was an expert at finding him at fault.

In his darkest moments over the last month, Tony had seriously considered what it would be like to end his suffering. The severe pain he felt every waking moment—every sober moment—was something he desperately wanted to stop. But not being present to see Morgan grow up—not being there if the Avengers needed him—stopped him every time.

So, alcohol seemed like a good middle ground. Still alive, pain numbed.

But the last two days had drastically illuminated the fact that alcohol was not a middle ground. Tony was aware that alcoholism was not truly a solution, but depression clouded even the most rational minds.

The utter devastation on Steve’s face sprang to the forward of Tony’s mind. 

Tony barely remembered what he had yelled, but the pain on Steve’s face said enough.

He tossed and turned in bed several times, groaning and slamming his fists into the mattress. 

_“Turns out resentment is corrosive, and I hate it.”_

He stared up at the ceiling—the pounding in his head paled in comparison to the hurt in his heart.  The problems in his life seemed to have endless layers—and each day he was peeling back another layer and learning something new about the root cause of it all.

He closed his eyes and it all came rushing back to him.

The first time he and Pepper started fighting consistently was after he got back from fighting Steve and Bucky in the Hydra base. It had felt like his heart had been broken. 

_Come on Tony—it’s just you in here, inside your head—you can be honest with yourself. Your heart was broken._

He smashed the heels of his hands into his eyes. 

After Steve stabbed his shield into Tony’s chest he had felt his heart actually shatter under the weight of that moment. It was a break up—the worst one he had ever experienced.

If he was going to be honest with himself…

_That’s where it started._

He sat up in bed, popped five Tylenol, and downed a glass of water.

It was time for a change.

~

 

Nat looked up from the book she was reading when she heard Tony plop down in the chair across from her. She could instantaneously tell that he was sober, but hungover. Patiently, she closed her book and looked at him—her expression soft and waiting for him to start. It was clear he was there to say something.

“I’m sorry,” he finally broke, voice hoarse and wavering.

“I know,” she replied.

“Pepper,” he started and stopped. There were tears in his eyes. “Pepper said she was not longer in love with me. That we would be better as friends and that it was clear we couldn’t make a marriage work.” 

“Tony—I’m so sorry,” she said, reaching across the table and holding his hand.

“She’s right, though. She’s right. And I suppose…”

He paused, working himself up to saying something out loud that he had denied for far too long. Natasha squeezed his hand, trying to transfer all the love and support she could manage through her touch.

“I s’pose I’m not in love with her anymore, either, and that I agree. It’s better for it to be over. I don’t want Morgan to grow up in a household like the one I grew up in—Howard was always yelling at mom—they were so unhappy.”

Tony choked back tears. There were more minutes of long silence. But he composed himself—Natasha saw a switch click inside of him—and he turned fully towards her with a serious look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said, more definitively this time.

“I know—it’s okay, Tony. But I’m really not the one you should apologize to. You need to talk to Steve.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> Thank you for reading! I promise, while it is still a bumpy road ahead, it starts looking up from here. And the next chapter will have some very soft Tony and Steve moments together.
> 
> I love your comments and support so much! Love ya!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony knows he owes Steve an apology, but even more than that, he knows they have things they need to truly finally discuss.

It was taking Tony longer than he expected to work up the courage to go talk to Steve.

He needed to apologize. He knew that—hell, he wanted to apologize. But he was unusually nervous to do it.

Tony was not a man prone to nervousness or anxiety when interacting with his teammates. In fact, that was one area of his life that he was normally fearless in. The few times he could remember being nervous in regards to the Avengers almost always had to do with Steve.

_Why?_

He asked himself—frustrated. Frozen, in place, about five feet away from Steve’s bedroom door.

Why had he been anxious to meet Steve, all those years ago, when he first came up from the ice? Was it because Howard never shut up about him—his precious experiment—friend—the perfect hero? Was it because before Tony had ever met Steve it had already been engrained into his mind that he was perfect? Howard seemed convinced that Steve was flawless and Tony was anything but.

Tony could not deny that he carried that chip on his shoulder into his first interactions with Steve. Hell—maybe he never stopped carrying it.

There was a weight to the apology Tony owed Steve and he was painfully aware of it. This apology was not just about his hurtful words from yesterday—it went back much further than that. They had never truly discussed what went down between them. And they needed to if there was any chance of moving forward. _Truly_ moving forward.

A short and simple brushing off what happened between them sufficed when the Time Heist was at stake, but that could only last for so long. In the weeks of the Time Heist they had worked together as partners better than ever before, but even those side-by-side victories could not undo the damage done by a shield in the chest.

“Come on Tony,” he mumbled to himself. He dragged his hands over his face to compose himself.

Slowly, he took the last few steps to Steve’s door and knocked.

 

 

~

 

Steve had barely slept all night—one ear and eye open waiting to be there for Tony in case he needed him. So when the birds started chirping around five in the morning, Steve got up, and got ready to go for his morning run. The serum made it so he could function without any sleep for a few days at a time, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it. 

While on his run he was haunted by all the ways he failed Tony. The look on Tony’s face when he found out the truth of his parents’ deaths—when he found out Steve knew—it was forever seared in his mind.

The further Steve spiraled into the cycle of shame for how he hurt Tony, the faster he ran, as if his pace could help him outrun his regrets. 

_Resentment is corrosive._

Steve never resented Tony after Siberia—he resented himself. Before the Time Heist was put into motion he and Tony had reconciled—or so he thought—but Tony’s comment yesterday afternoon proved otherwise. He supposed that made sense—they did not really apologize or discuss what happened, because it was time to get to work and maybe some toxic masculinity got in the way, too.

But he knew better—he knew Tony deserved a real apology. And if they were to truly mend the wounds they carried a real conversation needed to happen. Tony was in a dark place and Steve wanted to carry him out of it—he wanted to bring him to the light, keep him warm, and protect him from his demons.

It was not that simple. Steve knew from personal experience that no one could save a man who did not want saving. This reality did very little to tame his superhero complex.

When Steve got back to his room he spent longer in the shower than usual. He rested his head against the tile and let the hot water spray over him until the bathroom was a sauna. It almost felt good to have his skin singed by the scalding water. It almost took his mind off his worry for Tony.

It wasn’t until Friday came over the intercom in Steve’s bathroom warning him about the steam and temperature levels that he realized. Just as he stepped back into his bedroom and pulled on pajama shorts, he heard a knock at the door.

And then Tony’s voice, sounding unusually timid, “Steve?”

Steve rushed across the room and slowed down right as he reached the door, a feeble attempt to regain his composure, as he opened it.

Tony’s heart stopped when Steve opened the door. Part of him wanted Steve to be out so he could have more time to gain the courage for this conversation.

The other part of him, the one that made his heart stop, was secretly elated to see Steve’s abs before him—still glistening from the shower. Tony gaped at him.

“Oh—s-sorry,” Steve stuttered, rushing over to his bed and pulling on the t-shirt that sat on the edge of it. Tony had seen him shirtless countless times, why did this time feel different? He squashed the questions bubbling up in his mind.  

“Can we—uh, talk?” Tony asked, looking for a way to regain his footing.

Steve nodded. He sat down in the armchair off to the side of his bed, where he would spend his time reading, and motioned for Tony to take a seat on the edge of his mattress. Several moments of palpable silence stretched out between them. 

“You wanted to talk?” Steve initiated, unable to cope with the intensity of the atmosphere. He was tired of avoiding these conversations with Tony.

“Yeah. Yeah, I did,” Tony said, wringing his hands together in his lap, looking down at his feet. “Yesterday—yesterday what I said—well really, my behavior these last few days, it has been unacceptable.”

“I’ve been hoping that no one would notice, you know? My uh, drinking, that is. And then Pepper told you guys, I didn’t even get to tell you guys—my family, on my own terms, and I sort of spiraled even further. I’m not great at not being in control, Cap, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed that before.”

Steve snorted.

“Yeah—figured you’d have noticed that. And yet, when everything in my life goes to shit, instead I’ve looked for ways to feel out of control. Funny, isn’t it? Alcohol lets me be loose, not feel, not care. It stops the mental spiral about my failings as a husband and a father, but let’s other things bubble up to the surface. Yesterday, you were trying to help me, and I’m grateful for that. But the alcohol melted away my filter and I guess, despite my best attempts, I’m still hurting.” 

Tony took a deep breath, finally looking up into Steve’s eyes.

“What happened between us—Siberia, Bucky, the Accords—that’s never healed. Not really. Not properly. Sometimes—sometimes I wake up in a panic because I feel your shield slamming into my chest again. I don’t say that to upset you, Steve, but. I’ve got to be honest—of all the people in my life, I truly never expected that to happen between us. Not us. Never us. But then it was us—it did happen. And I don’t think I’ve ever found my footing again since then.”

“Tony—Tony, I understand, I do,” Steve started, holding his hand up to ask Tony to pause. “If you think you’re alone in that, you’re not. What went down between us—it plagues my every waking moment.”

“Well then it is pretty pathetic we haven’t really talked about it before, huh? Instead we have both committed to being haunted by the same memories over just owning up to what went down. Having a real conversation like goddamn adults,” Tony scoffed, but then smiled a small smile.

A small smile Steve sheepishly returned.

“Steve, I’m sorry. God—from the bottom of my heart am I sorry for the way I reacted when I found out you knew about Bucky and my parents. I should have seen what a difficult situation that was for you. Instead, I let the rug be pulled out from under my feet. And I played right into what Zemo wanted. And for yesterday—using that against you again—I’m sorry.”

Steve’s eyes were welling up with tears. And the tears stung. They were fueled by years of denial and refusal to feel these emotions. 

“Tony, please don’t—Tony _I’m_ the one who should be apologizing. I should have told you about Buck and your parents. I shouldn’t have lied—you trusted me and I broke that trust. I hurt you. You were vulnerable and all I did was hurt you. I don’t blame you—not for yesterday, not for back then—I’m sorry.”

“One of us has to accept a damn apology, Rogers,” Tony laughed, blinking away the tears in his eyes.

“Of course I accept your apologies, Tony. I just wish we could have talked about this sooner—years ago,” Steve said, casting his eyes down to the floor, the guilt crumbling on top of him.

“Better late than never, right? That’s the bullshit saying?” Tony said, weakly laughing. “For what it’s worth, I accept your apology too, Cap. I forgive you.” 

Steve’s heart swelled—hearing _those_ words from Tony, words he never thought he would hear—words he didn’t think he deserved—it sent him soaring. He did not even attempt to hold back the tears that welled up in his eyes. Before Tony knew it, he was being pulled up off the bed into a hug. He was rigid at first, but hearing Steve softly cry turned him into a sappy mess.

“Cap—Steve, are you okay? I thought—this was a good thing?” he asked, hugging the much larger man and rubbing his back.

Steve let out one more sob before pulling back to look Tony in the eyes.

“I’m sorry Tony, I’ve just been…I’ve been carrying this weight—the guilt of what I did to you—and to hear you say you forgive me. It is good, overwhelming, but good,” he said, smiling and misty-eyed. 

Tony was struck by how beautiful Steve’s eyes looked. Upon noticing the depth and wonder of Steve’s eyes, his heart skipped a beat, a sensation he actively chose to ignore for the moment. There was something swimming in his eyes, beyond the emotion of their apologies, and Tony was mentally fumbling to figure it out. And just when he thought his fingertips were about to grasp it—

“Thank you for this conversation, Tony,” Steve said, stepping away from him and awkwardly stuffing his hands into his pajama pockets.

_God, I do not want this to end up awkward between us,_ Tony internally panicked.

What came out of his mouth, “We should start spending more time together. Y-you know, uh, like we used to. Before…”

He would mourn his inability to sound cool and casual later.

“That would be great, Tony. Yeah, I’d love that,” Steve beamed at him, unrestrained, and Tony wondered how he could be so comfortable showing emotion.

 

~

 

Tony and Nat collapsed into ringside chairs in the training room after finishing their final round of their sparring match. He gulped down half a bottle of water, breathing significantly heavier than Nat, and looking exhausted by comparison. She smirked. 

“Thanos is gone, we bring everyone back, and you decide to get lazy, huh?” she teased, punching him in the arm.

He gasped loudly and dramatically, “Ouch, Romanoff, you’re gonna leave a bruise!”

Tony’s eyes wandered over to the boxing ring in the center of the room where Steve and Bucky were currently sparring. He was hyper aware of the ways that Bucky was making Steve laugh and smile, even in the middle of a spar, with ease. It seemed so natural—their interactions, the laughter, and their ability to anticipate the other’s next move as they fought.

It felt like his stomach was being wrung into knots. Tony felt his heartbeat slamming in his throat. Once Tony became conscious of the fact that he was staring, it was too late, he had held his gaze for so long Natasha had caught on.

_Hell, she would have caught on even if you just glanced,_ Tony scolded himself.

“So, you wanna talk about that or?” Nat prodded, leaning in closer to keep their voices down. “I mean—you do know Bucky is my boyfriend, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re implying,” Tony snapped. 

She scoffed and Tony knew better than that—he knew he couldn’t throw her off his trail now that she had seen his jealousy written across his face.

“It isn’t like that,” he said, doing his best to lie while telling half-truths. “It’s just…Steve and I used to be close…before…”

“Yeah, but you guys talked, right? So it should be good now.”

“We did…but…it doesn’t just go back to how it was overnight. We agreed to start hanging out more again, but it takes time,” Tony lamented. “And I’ve never been a patient person.”

“Oh, I’m aware.”

“Ouch, Romanoff, words hurt.”

Nat saw right through him—and he knew that—but she did not pry further. She could piece together where he was at right now—fresh in a divorce, fresh off a reconciliation conversation with Steve, and doing his best to avoid alcohol cold turkey. While Tony’s feelings for Steve were something she had known about for years now, despite his own denial, she knew now was not the time to push him. If there was one thing she was familiar with, it was the need for space, and time to heal. 

So instead, she reached out and held his hand, smiling.

“You know, I’m really proud of you Tony.”

“Really?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Yes, really, don’t be a dick about it,” she laughed. “Even though things with Pepper are…over, and hard, you are being incredibly strong about it.”

“I wouldn’t call falling into a bottle strong, Nat.”

“No, but crawling out of the bottle by yourself with your willpower alone, that’s impressive. Do I still think you should get professional help? Yes. But your willingness to have that difficult conversation with Steve—to start making things right—even though you feel like shit—I admire that." 

Tony sucked in a sharp breath of air.

“Speaking of, I joined an AA group,” he groaned.

Nat beamed.

“Really?! Oh Tony—I’m so proud of you!”

“I’m glad that sounds like good news to one of us,” he groaned louder.

“It sounds like shit, I know, but it will help.”

The sound of Steve and Bucky’s laughter filled the room. Tony looked to see they had knocked each other on the ground and were giggling like children about it. The jealousy monster started wringing his stomach again.

He dug his nails into his thigh and frowned deeply. Nat patted his hand. 

_Yeah, we’ll talk about this more later,_ she thought.

 

~

 

A week later, Tony greeted Happy and Morgan outside the compound as they drove up for Morgan’s day visit with her dad. She ran into his arms and he stood up and spun her around. 

“Daddy!” she squealed with delight.

“Well, hello little miss,” he hummed, resting his head against hers.

Pepper and Tony had agreed that while they finalized the divorce, and he sorted out his alcoholism, that Morgan would spend most of her time with her mother and Happy. Weekly visitations at the compound became the easiest arrangement. They had settled on telling Morgan that Tony’s absence was due to being busy with Avengers work and missions. 

“Thanks Happy,” Tony said over her shoulder, giving his longtime friend a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be back later today, sound good?” he asked, patting Tony’s shoulder and whispering, “You’re looking good, Tony.”

The first part of the day Tony and Morgan hung out with Auntie Nat and Auntie Wanda. Tony sat around the living room floor with the three of them while Nat and Wanda painted Morgan’s nails.

“Daddy can I paint your toes?” Morgan begged.

And that’s how he ended up with blue nail polish on his toes.

Tony’s heart swelled seeing Natasha and Wanda, two members of the team who had grown exponentially since he first met them, be so loving and gentle with his daughter. And Morgan absolutely adored both of them. It was a relief to see the team happily accept Morgan into their space and incorporate her into their days

Shortly after Morgan had finished painting Tony’s nails, Steve came in, and Morgan jumped to her feet and ran straight for him.

“Uncle Steeeeve!”

“Morgan!” He crouched down and caught her in his arms, giving her the biggest hug. “It is so good to see you!”

The next couple of hours were filled with Steve giving Morgan countless piggy-back rides and swinging her around. At some point Nat and Wanda left, but Tony was not sure when, because he was entirely captivated by watching Steve play with his daughter. Their bond was instantaneous and natural, despite Steve having only seen Morgan a few times prior. 

Towards the end of Morgan’s day with Tony, she was passed out asleep in Steve’s lap, as they all sat on the family room sectional couch. Tony was sipping on a glass of iced tea, staring at Steve and his young daughter a few feet away on the couch, smiling smugly. 

His heart was swelling with joy at the sight. And there was a noticeable presence of butterflies in his abdomen. But instead of questioning these feelings he just let himself feel them, because, well—they felt _good_. And it had been awhile since Tony had felt good.

However, he got caught staring.

“What?” Steve asked, looking over at Tony quizzically.

“You’re just…you’re really good with her,” he responded.

Steve returned Tony’s smile.

“I’m glad you think so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Your support keeps me going. I hope you enjoyed the soft moments, there are definitely more to come!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony slowly starts to forgive himself and settle into what his life looks like now. And Steve becomes increasingly more aware of his feelings and where he's at.

Tony was grateful that Happy had found him an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting that was meant for higher profile public figures. The last thing he needed was the ugly details of his life’s current status to get leaked out for mass consumption.

Imagine the headlines, he grimaced at the thought.

This was his third AA meeting and he still had yet to share anything personal beyond his name and that he was an alcoholic. He had spent the previous two meetings listening to politicians, actors, and other various people who held public positions of some sort moan about the difficulties of their lives.

He had a hard time believing he belonged in this group.

Do I sound as entitled as all these pricks?

Fifteen years ago—definitely—but now? He hoped not.

It was exhausting listening to these people, who all held positions of extreme privilege in the world, complain about the minor inconveniences in their lives. The politician—Smith, was it?—had cheated on his wife and gotten caught. He talked as if the getting caught part was what was wrong with the whole situation. Tony’s stomach churned.

Tony knew, logically, that alcohol dependency was complex and that each individual turned to it for their own reasons. It was disease and not something he faulted any of the participants for—but some of them were awfully pretentious in the way they talked about their lives. And that’s where he found problems with them.

It made him panic to see his own demons reflected in the faces of the others in the room.

Becoming aware of his own faults, through seeing them in someone else, was suffocating. He felt the tide of his mistakes rising, choking him, and engulfing him entirely.

Life had been much easier—albeit numb—when he was swimming in a sea of bourbon and whiskey. Now that he had been cast onto the shore of sobriety unpleasant was an understatement.

Hence his silence at every meeting—he was busy grappling with the reality of his illness. But the night of his third meeting, he got called out, and couldn’t run away.

“Hi Tony,” the group leader started.

His name was Adam, he was in his thirties, and had been in recovery for 10 years. He started drinking at age 12 to avoid dealing with his parents’ abusive relationship. Though he was younger than Tony, he was aware that Adam was wise—especially when it came to wrestling with alcoholism—and that he deserved respect.

He was also aware that his prideful tendencies really had no place in this room. But sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

“This is your third meeting and you have yet to share anything. Is there something you maybe want to share with the group?” Adam encouraged. He was so damn nice and Tony knew he should appreciate that, but it really just rubbed him the wrong way. It reminded of him when the Avengers first formed and Cap would be so condescendingly sweet it gave him a toothache.

“Sorry, I didn’t bring enough trauma to share with the rest of the class,” he quipped.

Adam gave him no reaction, much to his dismay.

“How are you doing?” Adam pushed.

“I could really use a drink,” he snapped back, bristling. That at least garnered a chuckle from a few others in the room. Adam, not so much.

“Tony, I know it can be hard to share how you’re doing or what brought you here. But at the end of the day you are only going to get out of this what you put into it. If you put nothing into it, you get nothing. And I know you’re not the type of man that wants to waste his time.”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, leaning forward in his chair and trying to breathe into the tightness that built up in his chest. The panic attacks had started coming back about a week ago. Instinctively, he knew Adam was right but he was terrified of admitting his faults out loud to a group of strangers he did not really give a damn about.

Sitting back in his chair, willing to anxiety away with every fiber of his being, he sucked in a big breath of air. His pulse was pounding in his throat. His hands were sweating profusely.

Damn it, I can do this.

Tony kept his eyes on his feet, grounding himself, but he finally began to speak.

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at this. It’s been hard being here—seeing my own struggles present in other people’s stories. It makes it…makes it more real, you know?”

He chewed on his lip, pausing. Hesitant.

“It’s okay Tony, you’re safe here. This is all confidential,” Adam encouraged.  
“I know I just—I guess I want to fix this on my own. I don’t like being dependent on other people. And I don’t want to be a burden—with my bullshit, my mistakes—I know this is a disease and I shouldn’t be as mad at myself as I am—but I am.”

“And why do you think you’re mad at yourself?” Adam prodded, helpfully guiding Tony along in his thought process.

“Because I haven’t loved my ex-wife for a few years now and I pretended that I did. And the pretending wasn’t good enough, because even though we have a daughter, it still fell apart—and that’s all my fault,” Tony spat out, surprised by how little resistance he felt finally confessing this all.

“And I know she said she fell out of love with me too—but I can’t help but feel that was a reaction to me. To the ways I distanced myself. I mean—I’ll always love her, she’s one of my best friends—but I haven’t loved her the way in a long time. And I think I hate myself for that failure as a husband.”

The silence in the room was deafening. Panic started to grip his neck again.

“Why do you think it happened, Tony?” Adam’s voice sounded muffled.

“Because the Avengers are a significant part of my life and my prioritizing that—after bringing everyone back—was too much for her to swallow. We’ve never completely seen eye-to-eye on this—the missions, the team—and now that I have a daughter…that was supposed to change, you know? My family was supposed to be the only thing that mattered but…”

“Tony—“

“But instead I can’t help it but be selfish and want this. All of it.”

“Tony, who says you can’t have all of it? Almost every parent has to find a way to balance the various aspects of their lives. And it is important to note not every marriage works out and that is okay. Divorce can be a very healthy thing. It is probably better your daughter’s parents are separate and happy, instead of still married, but miserable. She doesn’t need to grow up in an environment like that,” Adam responded. Tony hadn’t seen Adam openly respond to any other participant like this before and he assumed it was because the idea of two unhappy parents raising a child struck a chord with him.

“Thanks—you’ve uh, given me a lot to think about,” Tony whispered, still staring at his feet, afraid of the intimacy of this space. But he genuinely did have thoughts to chew on after Adam’s response.

“Thank you for sharing, Tony,” Adam and the group said in unison.

 

~

 

“So, how’d the meeting go?” Nat asked, leaning against the wall while Tony beat the life out of the punching bag.

They had been in the gym for a little over an hour and Tony was stubbornly refusing to talk about anything. He only stopped punching the bag to drink water or wipe the sweat out of his eyes. It was the most Nat had ever seen him dedicate to physical exercise in months, which would be great, if it weren’t some half-baked plan to avoid any real human contact.

“Fine,” he grunted between hits.

For Tony beating the shit out of this punching bag was cathartic—with every hit he pounded out another anxious thought. He finally had the motivation to turn to healthier coping mechanisms and goddamn it, he was going to get the most out of them. But he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t also partly to avoid having to talk to any of his friends about how he was doing.

He should have passed out about fifteen minutes ago from the exhaustion, but his anxiety was a type of inertia propelling him forward. In his worst moments he saw himself in the punching bag and hit harder.

Nat could read his self-loathing a mile away. It was a devastating feeling that she was too familiar with herself. Her heart broke to see Tony like this—one of the most admirable, kind, and brilliant men she had ever met—so deep in a pit of self-hatred.

“Tony.”

Nothing.

Alright, that’s enough of that, she decided, pushing herself off the wall.

In a single smooth movement, she grabbed Tony’s hand as it moved forward for another punch, with her other hand against his shoulder, and threw him onto his back. She pinned him down, smirking, knowing he wouldn’t bother to fight back.

“If that’s how you wanted to spend our time this afternoon Romanoff, you could have just told me. Promise I won’t tell Barnes,” Tony quipped, winking, and pretending the wind didn’t just get knocked out of him.

“Nice try Tony, but I know what it looks like when someone tries to avoid talking about something,” she responded, tightening her grip on him as he started to squirm. “But I love you—we all do—and you need to trust us and talk to us. If you don’t, we can’t support you the ways you need us to.”

Tony nodded, quiet.

“If I let you up, will you talk to me?”

“Yeah,” he conceded.

Natasha was an oxymoron—both incredibly gentle in her love for her friends but completely capable of tough love when necessary. This was one of those tougher moments, Tony figured.

They sat against the wall, side-by-side, as Tony wiped the remaining sweat from his face with a towel. He wasn’t sure why he felt panic when considering opening up to his closest friends—his family—about his feelings. It was just the other day he had that heart-to-heart with Steve and it had gone well—what was there to fear?

But the second he began considering sharing, even with Natasha, who he had known longer than the rest of the team—he slammed into a mental wall. The boundaries he set up to protect himself were oppressive even to himself.

Nat obviously saw his internal struggle, because she said, “Tony, sometimes the things we do to protect ourselves actually end up hurting us more than they help. Sometimes we think being closed off keeps the pain out, but really, it just keeps it in.”

“You always know what to say,” he laughed, muscles relaxing.

“Well, you know, I am trained to understand people to a deeply intimate degree.”

“Yeah, but you’re using your powers for good, thank god,” Tony joked and she laughed.

“So, Tony, what’s weighing you down?”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“I admitted it to my AA group today—the ugly truth—that I haven’t been in love with Pep for…awhile,” he started. “And it made me feel slimy. Like a failure—as a husband and a father.”

“Saying that out loud Tony, that’s the first step to healing—you know that, right?”

“Yeah but…I can’t shake this feeling that it’s all selfish of me. The not loving her like that, the wanting a family and the work, not being able to let go of the Avengers. I’m greedy—why couldn’t I just settle down?”

“Tony, not everyone stays in love forever. You’ve said it before, Pepper fell out of love too, and none of that falls on only one person. You two are co-parenting beautifully. Your friendship is intact. You’ll always love each other, maybe not the way you intended, and that’s okay.”  
He just nodded, the man who always had something to say, out of words.

“Another thing Tony—nothing about you is selfish. In fact, you’re one of the most selfless men I’ve ever met. And it breaks my heart that you’ve bought into the headlines the tabloids run about you or what your worst enemies think. You give and you give and you give—and even when you run out of things to give, you create more to give.”

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders for reassurance.

“You’re a fantastic father to Morgan. You’re an amazing friend and teammate to all of us here. You’re there for every single person in your life at the drop of a hat. Are you a stubborn and sassy pain in the ass? Of course, but that’s part of why we love you,” she laughed.

And he couldn’t help but laugh, too, because he felt that wall start to crumble.

“Thank you Natasha—really, you’re a life saver.”

“I know,” she said, kissing him on the temple.

 

~

 

Steve was surprised to see Tony already at the Sunday night Family Dinner when he arrived. Tony was always late and Steve was always early—but tonight he had him beat. And on top of that, he was helping Carol and Bucky prepare dinner.

It was the most socializing he had seen Tony do in week and it made his heart soar.

“Tony, it’s good to see you,” he said, clearing his throat to make his presence known.

“Turns out I’m not totally useless in the kitchen, Cap. I’m just as surprised as you are,” Tony joked, winking.

Steve ducked his head and turned his back to the kitchen, hiding the scarlet blush sweeping across his pale skin. He used it as an excuse to start setting the table, as if that had been his plan all along. He was used to Tony’s flirtatious comments—hell, he had been making them from the second they met all those years ago—something about how spry he had been—why did he remember that detail this many years later?

It had been insanely flattering to have the Tony Stark make flirty comments his way, both then and now. Eleven years ago Steve had read Tony’s file—the man’s illustrious lifestyle and desirability preceded him. There wasn’t a man or a woman that could resist throwing themselves at him. Tony had grown a lot over the years—he wasn’t about taking everything, or everyone, he wanted with reckless abandon anymore. But one thing that had not changed over the years was that he could—if he wanted someone in his bed, he could have them there in minutes—which made having any single Tony Stark flirtatious line thrown his way thrilling. And flattering. And maybe some of his favorite interactions he got to have with him.

Steve swallowed hard. He dropped a plate, so wrapped up in his memories of Tony’s be one-liners, that he clumsily fumbled with the dishes in his hand. The plate shattered on the wood floor and he looked up—horrified.

“S-sorry,” he stammered.

Bucky was already at his side, helping him clean up the scattered pieces. While they were kneeling on the floor together, Bucky reached out for Steve’s arm and steadied him. The concern was clear on his face.

“Steve, are you okay? You’re far from the clumsy type,” he started, frowning with intensity.

The thoughts of all of Tony’s flirty quips over the years flashed to the front of his mind again. He went bright red and hot.

“Yeah,” he snapped, a little harsher than intended, as he stood up to discard the broken pieces.

Bucky and Nat started to put all the food on the table—this was how they ate every Sunday night, family style, with the dishes passed around for everyone to scoop their desired portions onto their own plates. It reminded Steve of the one Thanksgiving his mom had saved up enough money for them to have a proper dinner. That was one of the reasons Sunday nights were his favorite—he never missed a single Avengers Family Dinner—it was something he never had growing up. Bucky, who was sitting next to him, caught his eye and smiled—as if he knew. He probably did. Steve almost never had to explain anything to Bucky out loud. That was one major benefit to having a friend who came from the same era he did—the realities of a harsh life back then were shared and something they both remembered in their bones.

“Carol, it’s so good to see you again,” Steve said, smiling brightly at her from across the table. She was mid-bite and laughed at Steve’s poor timing.

“God—it is good to be back. Even if it’s just for a couple days. Helping Fury set up S.W.O.R.D. is exhausting work,” she sighed.

“How’s that going?” Steve asked in between bites.

“Good. Getting the Peak up and running and fully operational is just time intensive,” she explained. “And getting various other planets, races, and beings on board with the program is strenuous, but most people are seeing the benefit.”

“Well, Spaceface, with you at the helm of helping it get started, I don’t doubt that it is going to be a massive success,” Tony said, throwing an arm around Carol’s shoulders and grinning at her. She rolled her eyes, pretending that he was some sort of annoying burden, but her love for him was clear.

“Y’know Shellhead, I’m smart—we all know that—but I don’t know why they haven’t summoned your brilliant brain up there yet. We could definitely use you,” she responded, leaning into Tony a bit, returning the affection.

“No thanks, no intergalactic work for me for a bit,” he laughed. “Last time I was out there I got stabbed and I’d rather not do that for a while.”

They turned inward towards one another, continuing on a conversation about S.W.O.R.D. and other inside jokes that Steve was not privy to. He had watched Carol and Tony hang out many times before and it never triggered this current unpleasant feeling in his chest. It felt like there was a hand around his heart and diaphragm—squeezing it tight. He was absolutely nauseous—was this jealousy? And why did it decide to show up now, of all times, after months of seeing Tony happily spend time with Carol?

He hastily stood up and excused himself to go put his dishes in the sink. Nat was hot on his heels, observant as ever, and setting her things in the sink next to his. They kept their backs to the dining room table, Steve trying to regain his composure, and Nat wanting to keep this brief moment private. She placed her hand over his, looking up at him with sincerity.

“Steve, it’s okay,” she started. “But you do remember Carol is a lesbian, right?”

Perceptive as ever.

He sucked in a sharp breath and breathed it out slowly. Relief washed over him and the tension in his shoulders melted away. He would feel embarrassed about how obvious he was later, but right now it just felt good to get the green monster out of his body. Just like that the jealousy faded.

“I forgot,” he murmured.

“Yeah, I figured.”

“Oh god—was I that obvious?” he groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“No, I just know you. And everyone in this damn place seems to forget I’m trained to notice these things in people,” she chuckled. “I see things no one else does.”

“Thank god,” Steve sighed.

 

~

 

Nat stepped into the bedroom, toweling off her wet hair, fresh from the shower, and letting out a loud groan. Bucky looked up from his side of the bed, where he was sitting reading Dune by Frank Herbert, all cozied up for the night.

“Yes, love?” he asked, sitting up straighter and closing the book.

“They’re both so dense it is painful,” she said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, turning to face him. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. Tony’s a literal genius and Steve is really damn smart himself, but god. I’m holding their hands through this.”

Bucky laughed, instantly catching on.

“Well, Tony is coming fresh out of a divorce and a recovering alcoholic, maybe you should give him a break.”

“I know—“

“Steve, on the other hand, has always been a massive idiot when it has come to matters of the heart.” That earned a genuine laugh from Natasha. “He’s quite literally the world’s authority on waiting too long. I mean—I’m not advocating he pounce on Tony right the second the divorce papers are signed, but Christ.”

“Right?” she grumbled.

“You’re a good friend, Nat. They’d be lost without you—not just for this, for everything,” Bucky said, leaning across the mattress and holding her hand in his.

“Ugh, don’t go being all romantic on me when I want to complain,” she whined, but she was beaming a beautiful smile his way.

Bucky’s heart could damn well burst right then and there from the amount of love that surged inside of him at the sight of Natasha and her perfect smile. She was everything to him. He was beyond grateful to have found her—someone who understood every single intricacy of who he was, what he had been through—and loved him anyway. Sure, sometimes they fought like hell, but at the root of everything between them was a deep, mutual respect and care for one another.

God, he loved her so much.

“Shut up,” he laughed, surging forward and catching her lips in a kiss.

 

~

 

Tony was sitting in his workshop, surrounded by dozens of holographic screens that displayed new equipment upgrades for the rest of the team. He was doing his damndest to concentrate, but Steve’s strange behavior from earlier in the night was haunting him. It had only been him, Carol, Bucky, Nat, and Steve at dinner tonight. He knew for a fact that Steve loved Bucky and Nat—and he always seemed to get along well with Carol—so he could only surmise that he was the problem. And damn, that made his heart ache.

He had thought that he and Steve were on their way to good footing—their conversation had been hard and awkward—but it had been good, right? After dinner he wasn’t so sure anymore. And god, he hated not being sure about something. He had half a mind to storm over to Steve’s room, bang on the door, and demand an explanation.

Yeah, no, that’s too much. Especially since he had no proof that he was the problem, but he couldn’t help but see the facts in front of him. And they pointed his way.

“Whatever. Okay, Friday, bring up Nat’s widow bite designs,” he said, trying to distract himself from the nagging voice inside his head. Work. Work was the healthy distraction, but the burning taste of bourbon sliding down his throat hovered on the outskirts of his mind and his desires.

“Yes sir,” Friday’s voice echoed back.

Tony buried himself in his work—designing a more potent version of Nat’s widow bites that would have a quicker response time and further range. He was so engrossed in his new project that thoughts of alcohol faded and he failed to notice Steve entering into the workshop.

Steve cleared his throat, standing awkwardly across the room, just inside the entrance.

“Sir, Captain Rogers is here,” Friday announced.

Tony’s head snapped up from his work station and he dropped the screwdriver that was in his hand. He stumbled over a box of tools on the floor as he tried to pick up the item he dropped. Suddenly, Steve’s behaviors from earlier made a bit more sense and Tony flushed at the thought.

“Cap—can I help you?” he asked, voice higher than intended.

“No, uh, Friday told me you were in here—and I couldn’t sleep, but everyone else is—and I thought, maybe I could join you?” he asked, sheepishly holding up a sketchbook and charcoal pencils.

When Tony just stared, he panicked, continuing on, “I won’t bother you, I just thought it might be nice. Y-you know, we said we would start spending more time together, like we used to, so I thought—“

Tony couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

“What—yeah, of course, yes! Go ahead,” he responded, gesturing to the only clean surface in the room, a desk a few feet across from where Tony was working. “Make yourself at home, Cap.”

Steve sat down, cracking open his sketchbook to a blank page, and got to work. Tony couldn’t resist stealing glances of Steve drawing—the way he pursed his lips, the smooth movements of the pencil against the paper—it was enchanting to watch him perform such a delicate task. After all, he was Captain America—all muscle and impeccable strength—and while the amazing work he did out on the battlefield could be considered its own art form this gentle hobby created a beautiful juxtaposition.

Tony found himself fully captivated by the super soldier as he sketched away as if that’s what he was made for instead. Admittedly, he had forgotten that Steve was an artist. But before Siberia, Steve would often join him in his workshop late at night, quietly drawing in the corner, while Tony tinkered away on whatever project had his attention at the moment. Back then it had been obvious neither wanted to be alone—that they enjoyed each other’s company—but lacked the communication skills to talk about it. They had both happily settled for a peaceful arrangement of sharing space, keeping to their own projects, but together.

He felt butterflies, a pleasant sort of anxiety that he strangely welcomed, bubble up in his stomach. As a feeble attempt to distract himself from the feeling—and to finally tear his eyes away from Steve—he picked up his screwdriver to put the finishing touches on Nat’s widow bites by hand.

The minute Tony ducked his head down to work, Steve glanced up, and smiled softly to himself. He was blissfully unaware of Tony’s staring just seconds ago—had he known, he would likely be the color of a ripe tomato. Instantly he Steve became enthralled with Tony’s diligent fingers as he modified the equipment before him. He was endlessly amazed by the way Tony’s brain worked, his brilliance, and how he could figure out a problem in record time.

Steve drifted off into reminiscing back to when the Avengers had first formed and all the volatile ways he and Tony had argued then. Tony had a severe refusal to listen to any orders—not that much had changed in that department—and it had been Steve’s role to give the orders. Each mission Tony bristled and balked at any commands Steve hurled his way. They wasted countless minutes arguing over the validity of Steve’s call and whether or not Tony’s solutions were viable. Now, reflecting back on those times, Steve had the humility to admit that often Tony had found a better solution. But in the heat of the moment he had always been too proud to relinquish control, even if it was a literal genius he had been arguing with.  
Now there were years of time and space between the hostility of the early days and where they were now, but one thing remained the same: Tony’s infinite intelligence. Steve did not think of himself as dumb, his awe of Tony’s own brain was not done out of comparison or self-deprecation. In fact, Steve was confident in his own mind, his ability as a tactician, and his willingness to learn anything new. No—his fascination for Tony’s expansive mind was pure and honest enchantment.

He was helplessly smitten.

Ever since his conversation with Tony the other day, Steve had been getting progressively more and more comfortable with admitting that to himself. It was a glaring truth that he had been painfully aware of before Siberia, but he let that desire freeze over in the snow when he walked away that day.

Little did he know that as he raced to help Tony off the spaceship the night Carol brought him and Nebula back to earth, with each footstep forward, that desire unthawed. By the time he held Tony in his arms it was a roaring flame in his chest.

Tony looked up, feeling Steve’s prolonged gaze on him, and caught his eye. They both felt the electricity crackling between them—this weight of things unsaid—the way they continued to tiptoe around everything important. He offered Steve a small smile and—

The alarms throughout the compound starting blaring. Tony startled and he nearly fell over.

An Assemble.

They hadn’t been called off to a mission in months.

“Back to work,” Steve said darkly, on his feet, as they both rushed out of the workshop. “Peace was nice while it lasted.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who is providing support and reading along as I work on this fic. I am truly pouring my heart out into it. Yes, this is a slow-burn, but I promise the pay off is worth it in the end. It doesn't feel right to rush Tony into anything since he is dealing with a divorce and a recovering alcoholic. I want Steve and Tony to naturally drift towards each other at a healthy pace. :) The next chapter is an intense one, so be ready...


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Assemble call in months. 
> 
> Pepper and Morgan in danger. 
> 
> And Tony's recklessly going in without any idea of what's waiting for him inside.

Tony and Carol were flying side-by-side, with Steve, Bucky, and Nat in a quinjet close behind. The signal was for an attack on the Avengers Tower. Friday was rapidly listing off the details of the situation, information scrolling by Tony’s eyes within the helmet.

Massive attack right outside the Avengers Tower.

Dozens of robots that resembled the Iron Man suit.

The main culprit was Zeke Stane—son of Tony’s previous mentor and friend, Obadiah.

A lot of civilians had already been evacuated from surrounding buildings, but the top floor of the Avengers Tower—the penthouse—was not cleared. It was being held hostage by Stane, who was wearing a knock-off Iron Man suit himself.

Tony’s heart was in his throat. He was struggling to remain objective.

Pepper and Morgan had moved into the penthouse a couple weeks ago to be given some space during the divorce. And so that it would be easier for Pepper to balance work and Morgan, without a long commute getting in the way. It had seemed like the perfect solution at the time.

Until now.

Tony had not seen Zeke in over fifteen years, but apparently the kid—well, now he was a full grown adult—was committed to taking after his father’s ‘destroy Tony’s life mission’.

“Tony,” Steve’s voice rang out over the comms. He sounded like his usual Captain America self—calm, but incredibly serious, with a hint of worry that most people could never detect. But Tony knew Steve better than that by now. He could hear it.

“Yes, Cap?” Tony snapped back. He did not need a pep talk right now as he hurled through the sky as fast as the suit would accommodate. He had to get there. He had to make sure Pepper and Morgan were safe.

“Bucky, Nat, and I will take care of the bots on the ground. We need you and Carol to deal with Avengers Tower. But you have to be cautious. We don’t know what the situation is like since Stane wiped out Friday’s system inside.”

Tony knew Steve emphasized the ‘and’ because otherwise Tony would blindly rush inside alone with no concern for his own safety. Instantly rebellion and defiance started to bubble up inside of him. Stane’s attack was personal.

It was his job to deal with it.

“Spaceface, I’m going in first,” Tony said, glancing over at the woman flying by his side.

“Tony, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she called back.

“I don’t really care if it is,” he responded. “This is my home. My family. My business.”

He couldn’t tell for sure under her suit’s helmet, but he thought she was frowning. The two of them had bonded over a lot of similar background—shitty fathers, struggles with alcohol, loneliness and abandonment issues. He knew if anyone was going to get where he was coming from right now it would be her.

“Okay, but I’m right behind you,” she conceded.

“Tony, I don’t think that’s a good—“

“It isn’t your call this time, Rogers!” Tony yelled. He couldn’t restrain the anger and panic that was gripping at his throat.

He looked ahead—the Avengers Tower was in sight—and it didn’t look pretty. The ground below was littered with silver robots that were clearly built to deal damage but could not withstand any.

Just a distraction, he surmised. An attempt to keep any and all attention away from the Tower where the real threat was. Well, he wasn’t falling for it.

The fear he felt coursing throughout his body was unparalleled to anything he had ever felt before. This was all his fault—Pepper and Morgan wouldn’t be in the Tower if it weren’t for the divorce—which was all his fault, too. In an attempt to make things better he had only put their lives at risk—he should have seen this coming. If it wasn’t going to be Zeke Stane, it could have literally been anyone else. The Avengers Tower was a giant beacon in the middle of New York that practically begged for attention—and usually not the good kind.

He had advised Pepper and Morgan move there and as a result placed them directly in harm’s way. Tony was certain he could never forgive himself for this.

And suddenly, the tower was finally within reach.

Later that evening, when he finally regained consciousness, Tony would try and remember the things that occurred. He was not sure how long it took the following events to happen, but it had to have happened in under a minute.

Tony skyrocketed his way into the main penthouse floor—the same space that Hulk had beaten down Loki in all those years ago—and that was now in a similar state of disarray. There was glass and concrete shattered everywhere. The outer deck was in flames, black smoke billowing up into the night sky. Tony’s heart sank. It looked grim.

“Friday, scan the room for any—“

“Tony?!” Pepper’s shrill voice called out from the other side of the room.

She popped up from behind the large gray couch in the far corner. The scene felt all too familiar to the attack at the Miami house. Pepper was covered in soot, blood, and sweat. He was at her side in an instant, steadying her, and scanning her for any serious injuries. Thank god there were none.

“Pep—Pep, where’s Morgan?”

“She’s out with Happy—they went out—for ice cream. They’re at a safe location now—Friday let them know what was going on,” Pepper explained, breathless.

“Oh thank god,” Tony cried, nearly weeping from the relief of knowing his daughter was far away from the danger.

And just like that, knowing Morgan was safe, Tony’s brain kicked back into gear.

“Pepper—god, where is your Rescue armor?” he asked, scolding, but also trying to find viable solutions.

“It’s still at the cabin—I know,” she snapped, before Tony could even chastise her further, frowning at him. “Sorry, I didn’t expect a maniac to attack me while I was peacefully at home.”

“You should always expect a maniac to attack you while you are peacefully at home! Have you learned nothing from dating me?!” Tony shrieked.

“Well apparently not because I married you even after all of that!” she yelled back.

Tony grumbled. She had a good point, even though it stung a bit. That wound was still fresh.

“Where is he? Where is Stane?” Tony questioned, his hands clasped on Pepper’s shoulders, forcing her to focus.

“I—I don’t know. He left the room a bit ago to take Friday offline. And since then I haven’t had eyes on the building. Without Friday I’ve been cowering in here blind,” Pepper sobbed, the stress of the moment finally reaching her.

This was the point where Tony’s memory would later fail to recall what happened next.  
Stane emerged from the elevator wearing a black and silver suit that was far higher tech than any of the ones on the ground below. His palms and fingertips were glowing yellow, charged with a significant amount of energy, not unlike Tony’s repulsor blasts.

He immediately locked eyes on Tony and Pepper and fired a blast directly to their left. Tony knew it was not a warning shot, but poor aim due to the amount of power surging through Zeke’s suit.

Without a second thought, Tony ripped off his arc reactor and jammed it onto Pepper’s chest. The nanotech armor vanished off of his body and immediately formed around hers. The last thing he remembered thinking was that Pepper was safe now.

“Friday get her out of here!”

When Stane fired off his second repulsor blast his aim had significantly improved. The memory was blurred with the image of Carol’s fiery photon blast, Steve’s body and shield jumping in front of him, and the Iron Man armor flying away.

The only thing flooding Tony’s mind was the unbearable searing pain in his left hip.

 

~

 

When the quinjet had landed in the streets under the Tower, Bucky and Nat hopped out quickly and went to work on the dozens of bots before them. Steve watched for a brief second as the bots essentially crumbled under his friends’ touch. The sight made his stomach churn.

Steve was a brilliant tactician—his analytical mind knew no bounds on the battlefield. He could see a situation and where it was going miles before anyone else had any idea. This had been one of the primary reasons the Avengers chose him to lead all those years ago. Not only could he say exactly what needed to be said ahead of a big battle, but he gave damn near perfect orders that always ensured success.

And now, as he stood there watching these robots fall apart from even Nat’s lightest touches, he realized he had made a grave error.

A distraction.

Which meant the only true threat was up top—hundreds of feet out of his reach—and that’s where Tony was. For the first time in a long time, Steve felt pure panic surge through his veins.

“Danvers,” he shouted, hoping the severity of his tone got her attention immediately. “Get me up top!”

Tony had only been up in the penthouse for a handful of seconds—they could hear his bickering with Pepper over the comms—and thankfully Steve had captured Carol’s attention before she was all the way up top. He knew Carol was giving Tony just a bit of space to assess the situation of his home and family and it had worked out to his benefit as well.

“Right away Cap!” Carol responded, pivoting in the air and racing down towards him.

They were almost to the top when they heard the first repulsor shot ring out over the comms. Bile rose up in the back of Steve’s throat at the idea of Tony or Pepper injured.

As they barreled into the penthouse Carol tossed Steve with one arm towards Tony and Pepper—Tony who was now out of his suit like the idiot he was—while firing a powerful photon blast out of her other hand at Stane.

Steve tucked and rolled, using the momentum to propel himself forward to Tony, shield held out to protect both of their bare bodies.

He was milliseconds too late.

His shield successfully took the brunt of Stane’s blast, but before he had managed to get all the way to Tony a portion of it hit him firmly in the side. The rest of the blast reflected off the shield and obliterated what was left of the corner wall.

When Steve looked up, Carol was standing over Stane’s lifeless body, breathing heavily. Friday had flown the Iron Man suit with Pepper inside out of the building and down to the quinjet.

For those brief seconds, Steve thought they had managed pretty well.

“Tony, we did it—“

When he looked down, he saw Tony moaning in pain, clutching his side. The man was utterly delirious—far away from the present moment due to shock and agony. Dark crimson blood was seeping out over Tony’s fingers and onto the tile ground beneath him. It was an image that got seared into Steve’s mind—Tony, wounded below him and because of him, helpless and fading with each passing moment.

“Tony needs medical attention—NOW!” Steve cried out over the comms. He dropped his shield and applied pressure to the wound, guilt seizing him as Tony sobbed in pain from the touch. Guilt suffocating him as he increasingly felt more and more responsible for Tony’s injury.

If only he had seen the inferiority of the machines below from the beginning—he would have been up here with Tony to begin with—he would have had his shield ready. He would have protected Tony like he was supposed to.

 

~

 

Tony blinked slowly as he eased into consciousness. His eyelids felt heavy and his body was numb. When the blurriness faded from his eyes he became acutely aware as to why—he was in one of the hospital beds back at the Avengers Compound in the infirmary. The heart monitor steadily beeped in the background and there was an I.V. in his arm.

He squinted up at the bag on the I.V. stand: Fentanyl.

Oh, so this was serious.

The clock across the room eventually came into focus—it was just after noon. That meant it was approximately twelve hours after they have gotten the assemble call for Stane’s attack on the Tower. God—where had the time gone? How did he end up here?

He closed his eyes and saw a photon blast, Steve’s shield, and his face looking down, tears streaming down his cheeks—why was Steve crying? Tony wanted to reach up and wipe away the sadness on his face, but was jolted back to reality when he heard Nat’s voice.

“Don’t worry, you’re not dead,” she chided.

Tony rolled his head to the side—she was sitting in a chair by his bed—how had he not noticed her before? She was too quiet. He knew she was a trained assassin, but she didn’t need to sneak up on him. Not when he was stuck in a hospital bed, no less.

“I’d say I would rather be dead, but I’m so high on these pain meds, I think I like this better,” he laughed. As he tried adjusting in bed to get a better look at her pain jolted through his left side. Tony let out a yelp and Natasha was at his side, hovering over him, and pushing him flat on his back.

“Hey, Mr. Self-Sacrifice, no moving for you yet. You’ve got that giant nasty wound on your left thigh and it just got stitched up. You rip that sucker open and it only gets worse from there.”

He laid there, eyes closed as the Fentanyl swept over him, and the pain slowly subsided again. When he looked up, Nat was still standing over him, concern plastered on her face. She was so beautiful. Sometimes Tony forgot just how stunning she was. Particularly because he endeavored not to see her that way anymore—both because she had grown to be like a sister and because he dared not face the wrath of Barnes. But here, high as a kite on painkillers, those trepidations faded away.

“God you’re beautiful,” he smiled. Nat rolled her eyes.

“You’re high.”

And as if struck by a lightning bolt, Tony jolted and tried to sit up again despite the pain.

“Where’s Steve?” he asked, frantic, the image of Steve sobbing and covered in blood coming back.

Nat gently, but with strength behind her movements, pushed Tony back down. There was some sort of amusement dancing in her eyes, but he was too high to put a finger on it.

“He just left, actually. I took over because he’s been at your beside for the last ten hours—since you got out of surgery, that is,” she responded. “I made him leave to go clean up and get some rest. He hadn’t even changed out of his uniform.”

Tony relaxed against the pillows and frowned up at her. Why would Steve have stayed by his side all that time? Tony prided himself on being able to figure things out that no one else could, being able to see things that other people overlooked, and getting to the answer lightyears ahead of everyone else. But the way Natasha looked at him, half amused and half like he was an idiot, told him that he was missing a large piece of information that she was privy to.

“Why would he do that? Why would he stay here all the time?” he asked, growing steadily more incoherent.

“I don’t know Tony, why might he do that?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He wanted to protest, argue, and ask her for more information but when he tried to he found that the drugs were taking over his system. Which, in reality, was probably for the best since the pain was starting to creep back up his spine. As his eyelids fluttered shut he prayed he would remember to further investigate what she meant.

The next few days were fuzzy and mostly full of countless hours of sleep on Tony’s part. His dosage of Fentanyl was slowly being lowered per Bruce’s recommendation, but even the lower doses knocked him out. This was for the better, because the few times he did gain consciousness, he was overcome with pain and discomfort. For several days in a row Steve stayed by his side, overcome by guilt, and feeling responsible to make sure Tony made it through this.

Steve was curled up in the armchair next to Tony’s bed, drawing in his sketchpad a beautiful piece of the Iron Man suit, getting lost in his thoughts. He had yet to shake the overwhelming feeling that Tony’s injury was on his shoulders. It was his job to see a situation for what it really was and act accordingly. But in this case he let himself get fooled by Stane’s ground army of robots and the result was a gaping wound in Tony’s leg.

He tortured himself replaying the events in his mind over and over and over. If he had been up in the penthouse from the beginning Stane would have never fired a single blast. He knew both he and Carol would have seen to that. The flame of guilt burned brighter with each passing moment—Steve walked himself deeper and deeper into the fire—and soon his entire body was ablaze with it. His pencil snapped in half in his hand.

“Steve,” Nat said, breaking him out of his thoughts. She had just come into the infirmary room and was walking over. Something told Steve she had been watching him for a few minutes. The worried look on her face was telling for a super spy that endeavored not to wear her feelings on her sleeve.

“Hey Nat,” he grumbled, abruptly closing the sketchbook to hide his work.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” she asked, smirking. But Steve knew she was asking a serious question under the guise of a joke. He placed the broken pencil on the small table by his chair and ran a shaking hand through his hair.

She must have seen his shaking hand because the next thing he knew she was kneeling in front of him, holding his face in her hands, with a serious expression. Steve mentally cursed himself—he knew better than to be so telling, because now she would take this burden on herself and that was the last thing he wanted. Hadn’t he caused enough pain?

“Steve, what’s wrong? You’re not the type of guy to get shaken up,” she whispered, gently rubbing his cheek with her thumb.

He closed his eyes and the breath he let out was uneven. This was Nat—his family—he knew that being open with her was safe. But the nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him that saying it out loud to someone else made it more real. It made his failures a topic for public discussion. His stomach knotted up.

“Nat I just…” the words died in his throat.

“It isn’t your fault.”

Of course she knew. He let out another shaky breath and she withdrew her hands from his face, sitting back on her heels in front of him. When he opened his eyes the intensity of her gaze made him want to flinch away. But he didn’t.

“I’m really not interested in hearing your self-righteous bullshit reasonings about how as the leader and tactical master it is your job to see every situation for what it is the second we get there. Because even super soldier serum isn’t the perfect solution to every problem, Steve. It is certainly not the solution to the problem of Tony Stark whose reckless behavior is really the thing to blame here. And no—I’m not saying you should be mad at him instead. But I am saying you should not be mad at yourself.”

Nat squeezed his knee, giving him a tiny smile.

“Maybe instead of focusing on what went wrong, try and think about how he’s still here? And he’s going to be more than okay. Dr. Cho’s regeneration technology with Bruce at the helm will have him back to tip-top shape way sooner than he deserves for that reckless stunt.”

Steve finally loosened up and let out a laugh. He grabbed Nat’s hand off his knee and squeezed it back. Slight waves of relief washed over him and the guilty fire in his belly subsided.

“Thanks Nat, you always know what to say. Really. I don’t know how you do it,” he chuckled.

“It only takes a couple weeks of being around you idiots to figure out where your minds go,” she teased. “From there I’m pretty much repeating myself every time the same old thing happens. Now get up and go to bed. It’s my turn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who has been reading along and cheering me on. And I'm sorry I keep hurting Tony, either emotionally or physically. I promise his recovery from this injury is going to be really easy, but mentally he is going to have some bumps in the road. To make it up to you, I promise lots of cute and soft SteveTony moments in the next chapter. 
> 
> But it is a slow-burn...so don't get too excited yet. ;)


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper and Morgan pay a visit, Tony and Steve watch Harry Potter, Peter drops by, and an Avengers Family hang-out ends in disaster.

Tony jolted awake when Morgan climbed up into bed with him. It took him several seconds to adjust to his surroundings—he was back in his bedroom at the compound. What a relief to no longer be in the infirmary.

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed, as she nuzzled up next to him and he hugged her tight.

“I was worried daddy!” she whined, squeezing him.

He looked up from his daughter to see Pepper standing awkwardly just inside the door—she gave him a small smile.

“Pep,” he whispered.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she said, the concern crinkling at the corners of her eyes.

It was the first time Tony realized that the pain in his hip and leg was completely gone. That must have meant that while he was unconscious Bruce put him through the regeneration technology Cho had developed. His hand shot down to grab at his side—the wound was indeed gone—and he could not restrain the sigh of relief that escaped. God he loved modern technology and how it vastly improved medicine. And god he loved Bruce—he made a mental note to thank him later.

Morgan sat back in her dad’s lap and messed with his hair, smiling and giggling at him.

  
“You look tired,” she mused.

“Well, you woke me up booger,” he replied, poking her nose and eliciting another giggle.

“Hey honey,” Pepper interrupted, sweeping her daughter up in her arms and sighing. “Can you go outside the room where Auntie Nat is waiting?”

“Oohhh—yes!” Morgan said, jumping out of Pepper’s arms and rushing out to be with Nat—who was apparently just outside which meant Pepper came here to talk more than she did to check in on how he was doing. Tony’s heart sank.

“Grown-up conversation, huh? You know I hate those?” Tony grumbled, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. He scrubbed his hands over his face in preparation for whatever Pepper might lob at him next.

“I just wanted to say thank you, Tony,” she said, sitting down on the bed next to him.

Tony blinked, unsure if he heard her correctly. Her gentle hand on his knee reassured him, but the crippling guilt of putting his family at risk again rushed in and swallowed him whole.

“Pepper—no, it is my fault you were in harm’s way—I’m so sorry. I ruined our marriage—our family—and then suggested you move there and put you right in the middle of a beacon for terrorism—I’m so sorry—“

Pepper covered his mouth with her hand and smiled wearily.

“Tony, it is not your fault. None of it is. I need you to get that through your thick skull, okay?”

When he looked extremely unconvinced, she continued.

“For a genius, you really are stupid, you know that? Tony—I love you so deeply and I know you love me, but sometimes things just don’t work out. And I think we both knew this was coming a long time ago. But we pushed on anyway—probably because we were so lonely—especially after Thanos, we only had each other, and it seemed like the only realistic solution.”

She dropped her hand away from his mouth now that he was attentively listening and not interrupting for once. Pepper turned more towards him and took his hands in hers.

“We still love each other Tony—and we are doing really well at raising Morgan together, even divorced—can’t you see it is healthier this way? I know what it was like for you…growing up in a household with parents who argued and loathed each other—I never wanted us to become that and we were. This way we get to love each other still, not like that but that’s okay. But I need you to stop blaming yourself—tearing yourself up over this—it isn’t good for you, for Morgan, or your team—your family,” she explained.

Pepper leaned forward and placed a firm kiss on his forehead.

“Tony, my dearest Tony, it is going to be okay. Morgan and I are moving back to the cabin, I will just balance working remotely and having Happy babysit or having Morgan come here more, okay? But I don’t blame you for the cruelty of others coming after us—I never will. You make the world a better place—you make me, Morgan, the Avengers—all of us better,” she said. When she leaned back to look Tony in the eyes he would deny that he was crying, but the tears were there anyway.

“Thank you, Pep,” he finally choked out, pretending his voice was not raspy. He kissed her hands and rested his forehead on them for a moment. “You don’t know how badly I needed to hear that.”

“Actually, I think I do,” she chuckled.

Tony glowered at her over her knuckles and dropped her hands in a mock pout, his lip sticking out and cheeks going red.

“We could have just pretended you didn’t know how much of a mess I was,” he huffed.

“How is AA going?” she asked, ignoring him.

He promptly threw himself back against his pillows and groaned.

“That good, huh?”

“Sure, it’s fine. Most of the people there have their heads up their asses.”

“And I’m sure you’re not one of those people,” she said, deadpan.

“Ouch, Pepper, my heart. You have wounded me,” Tony moaned, feigning pain and gripping his chest.

“Right, well, I have a company to run and construction to organize for the tower, so Morgan and I are heading out, okay?” Pepper smirked, planting one kiss on his cheek before standing up to leave. He caught her wrist before she could go, his expression open and vulnerable.

“Seriously—thank you Pepper.”

“I know, Tony. I know.”

 

~

 

Later that evening, Tony finally made his way out of bed and curled up on the large living room couch. The compound was relatively quiet and empty for a Friday night but Tony figured everyone probably wanted to get out for once especially since the last mission went so awry. The team deserved a break—knowing Nat, she likely convinced everyone to go out to a karaoke bar to blow off steam.

Tony found that even though the regeneration process had successfully repaired his wound, walking was still difficult, and he might need minor physical therapy to fully recover. The wound might be gone, but the muscle needed to gain some strength back. He ended up grateful that no one was around to watch him fall flat on his face on his way to the couch.

He snuggled under the massive gray blanket and made himself at home on the couch, turning on the television and putting on a Harry Potter movie. Tony laughed to himself—the magic in these movies had definitely lost their, well, magic, after meeting Strange. Nothing really compared to the mystical power the Sorcerer Supreme wielded with minimal effort. But it was nice to get cozy on the couch and drift far away from reality for a bit.

Tony got sucked into the Triwizard Tournament and the perils of Harry’s adventure. He was so engrossed that he did not hear Steve come up behind the couch and lean forward on the back of it.

“Tony,” Steve said, making his presence known. The other man nearly jumped several feet in the air as he spun to look at Steve, eyes wide, and heart pounding.

“Jesus—fuck Steve! When did you become so sneaky?!” Tony screamed, grabbing his chest and breathing heavily.

“Uh, I promise—I’m not that sneaky,” Steve laughed.

Tony sucked in a few sharp breaths of air to calm himself, anxiety spiking, and closed his eyes briefly. Once he felt level, he opened them and happily took in the sight of Steve before him. Steve was wearing that delicious dark blue button down that was several sizes too small—seriously, did the super solider purposely shop for tight clothes or did he just not know how to shop?

But Tony was never keen on pointing this out aloud because then that might mean Steve would stop wearing shirts that doubled as a second skin. And that would be a disservice to humanity, really, not just Tony’s ogling eyes. He unconsciously licked his lips while drinking in the view before him—how long had it been since he had sex?

Nope, not the time, he overrode the inappropriate thoughts scrolling through his mind.

And then it hit him—Steve only wore that shirt for special occasions. Namely, in the past, dates.

He swallowed the unpleasant feeling that bubbled up in his throat.

“You, uh, have a date, Cap?” Tony asked, weary.

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, not sounding thrilled about it. Tony pretended that didn’t make him happy. He jumped over the back of the couch and sat with a thud next to Tony.

“Uh—who with?” Tony continued, fearful of going down this path, but if Steve didn’t enjoy the date, then what was the harm?

“Sharon,” he replied flatly. “I’ve been uh—nevermind. Anyway, Buck thought it might be a good idea to give it one last try. I needed a distraction. I know that sounds bad—anyway, we couldn’t make it work. Again.” He shrugged. “We’re still good friends.”

  
“I know the feeling,” Tony sighed. “Pepper visited me today.”

“Oh god—Tony, are you okay?” Steve’s tone of voice completely changed. He shifted inwardly towards the other man, frowning with worry, and almost checking him over for emotional damage.

“Yeah—yeah, Cap, don’t worry,” he laughed. “It was actually good. Good—yeah, closure, and stuff.”

“Mine too,” Steve chuckled.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Tony started and stalled just as quickly as he had begun.

“What—what for?” Steve’s eyes got wide and Tony found himself wishing he could jump into the depths of those blues.

“Putting myself in harm’s way at the tower—a week ago?—god yeah, last week,” Tony said, looking away and fiddling with a string on the blanket. “It was reckless of me. And I comprised everyone in the process. I should know better by now, really.”

Steve looked like he might combust for a second before he started speaking.

“No—Tony, no!” he shouted before lowering his volume. “Sorry—but, you’re just wrong, is all. It’s my fault. God Tony—did you know I couldn’t leave your bedside for days after you got hurt? I was so sick with guilt because I should have seen that those bots on the ground were decoys and I didn’t. We all should have gone up to the tower with you and we didn’t, because I was fooled, and you got hurt because I wasn’t there in time to protect you and—“

“You’re stupid,” Tony said, but he was smiling.

“What? You’re not understanding, I’m trying to apologize, because all of this is my fault. I failed you as a leader and—“

“Please shut up.”

“Tony.”

“What? You want me to say I forgive you? I mean sure Rogers—I do, but there isn’t anything to forgive—I ran in headfirst. I was reckless per usual and you were doing your job. I can’t believe I’m having two of these conversations today,” Tony grumbled, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Please don’t blame yourself for my idiocy.”

“But I’m used to your idiocy, I should take it into account.”

“Ouch, Cap—everyone is wounding me today, really—“

“You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m the leader, it feels like this one is on me, and if we had lost you I wouldn’t know what to—“ a lump in his throat cutting him off, Steve adverted his eyes, and clenched his fists in his lap.

“It’s okay,” Tony whispered, realizing how much this actually meant to Steve, and that it was more than the Captain’s usual savior complex bullshit. He carefully placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder and squeezed. Several seconds passed before Steve regained his composure and looked over at Tony with a tiny smile.

“Thank you,” he whispered. And in an attempt to save himself some face and change the subject, “What are you watching?”

“Oh, you know—Harry Potter,” but when Steve looked confused, Tony startled. “Wait—how have I not shown you this yet? You haven’t seen any of the Harry Potters?!”

“Afraid not, Tony.”

“Oh my god—I’ve failed you as a 21st century guide,” Tony whined. “Friday, queue up the first Harry Potter. Steve—you’re in for a treat. Well, actually, pretend you have no idea who Strange is and then you’ll be in for a treat.”

“I’ll try my best,” Steve laughed, leaning back and settling in next to Tony on the couch. He put his feet up on the ottoman in front of them and let out a contented sigh.

Tony started chattering on about the characters and the world they lived in, helping Steve get up to speed, and looking the most excited Steve had seen him in a long time. The affection he felt towards Tony started blossoming inside his chest again and he was reminded why Bucky had convinced him to go on a date with Sharon. After four days in a row of Steve camping out next to Tony’s hospital bed Bucky practically dragged him away and told him to get himself together.

Bucky’s tough love had felt right in the moment, but now as Steve sat next to Tony, their arms pressed against each other, and Tony rattling off facts about Harry Potter—yeah, Bucky had been wrong. He knew Buck was trying to look out for him—which was fair, who wanted to see their best friend helplessly pine after unrequited love? But sitting here, pining or not, Steve was overwhelmed with a genuine joy he had not felt in years.

Halfway through the movie, Tony fell asleep with his head resting against Steve’s broad shoulder. Steve stayed still and let Tony rest there until the movie was over, convincing himself he was doing Tony a favor considering he must be exhausted, when in reality his motives were selfish. In this moment he could let himself pretend this was another situation—maybe another universe, even—where this had been a date and he and Tony were so much more.

When the credits finished, Steve resigned himself to reality.

“Hey, Tony,” he whispered, gently shaking the other man awake.

“Oh god—I fell m’sleep, sorry,” he grumbled, rubbing his eyes.

Steve’s heart broke over how adorable he looked.

“Don’t be sorry,” he chuckled. “Let’s get you to bed.”

When they stood, Tony’s previously injured leg gave out on him and Steve caught him. Tony cursed under his breath and Steve could have sworn his cheeks were red.

“Damnit—sorry Steve, still not used to walking on a leg that was injured and suddenly healed. It looks better, but uh, still kinda feels funny,” Tony rushed, clearly embarrassed and frustrated.

“Tony, don’t worry about it,” Steve reassured. “I’ll help you get to your room, okay?”

He wrapped Tony’s arm around his neck and carefully propped him up as they started walking towards his room. Tony was limping slightly, but with each step it felt easier to put weight on his leg. Thankfully, it looked like he would not need extensive physical therapy and instead more physical activity daily would suffice.

Internally, Tony’s heart was hammering against his ribs. He was alternating between embarrassment from almost eating shit again and being captivated by how wonderful Steve smelled—he smelled like petrichor, that beautifully refreshing and hopeful scent after it rained, and it was the single most intoxicating thing he had ever experienced.

The instant Steve set him down on his bed Tony found himself longing for that scent to fill his lungs again. He was longing for a lot of things in this moment—namely Steve’s touch and discovering what his plush pink lips felt like—

“Do you need anything else, Tony?” Steve asked, making his way to the door.

“Uh—no, no, I’m good Spangles, thanks,” Tony stuttered, being ripped out of his wildly inappropriate thoughts and crashing back into reality. He was too busy mentally cursing himself for allowing his mind to go there to properly respond when Steve said goodnight and left.

Tony promptly hobbled into the bathroom to wash his face and gain a semblance of composure. He was not sure what had come over him today—why had he been so consumed for lust for Steve this evening? He had always been painfully aware of how attractive Captain Handsome was, but normally he could compartmentalize enough for it to be a fleeting thought.

“God—do I need to get laid that badly?” he wondered out loud to himself. Tony stared at his reflection and silently acknowledged it was not that simple.

“Alright, time for bed,” he mumbled. And if he touched himself to the thought of a particular super soldier with gorgeous blue eyes before falling asleep, well, no one needed to know.

 

~

 

Steve woke up early the next morning to make a massive breakfast for everyone who was staying at the compound this weekend. He knew that besides Tony and himself, Nat, Bucky, Thor, Bruce, and Rhodey were around. It was always fun to do something for the team but if he were being honest, he needed the distraction from the constant thoughts of Tony’s body resting against his from the night before.

By the time everyone—save for Tony, who was always a late riser—woke up and made their way to the kitchen, Steve had made an impressive spread of everything from pancakes to bacon and eggs and a parfait bar.

“Did you get laid or something?” Bucky joked, but he sounded a little hopeful.

“Sharon and I agreed it is best to stay friends,” Steve snapped, dropping a plate of food down in front of Bucky.

“So, you’ve decided to stick to your hopeless pining, then?” Bucky snorted before stuffing a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

“Oh, who is Steve pining after?” Thor asked, suddenly honing in on the conversation with a mischievous grin on his face. “I have not been gone that long, things certainly change fast around here!”

He clapped a firm hand on Steve’s back and looked down at him, eyebrow raised, and that shit eating grin still on his face. Steve groaned because he knew his friends—his family—were going to be the death of him.

“Don’t worry about it Thor,” he grumbled.

“If you had to make an educated guess,” Rhodey started, sipping his coffee, looking suspicious.

  
Steve choked on the air in his lungs—how did Rhodey know? He knew Nat and Bucky were aware—mostly because he had confided in them, but they had noticed before that, too—but Rhodey? That was too dangerous—Tony’s best friend of a lifetime, knowing?—no thanks. He suspected Bruce knew too, but thankfully Professor Hulk knew to keep things to himself when it wasn’t his place.

“Oh,” Thor mused. “So it is true. You have it for our very own Man of Iron. You know, I suspected, some years ago, when you two had that falling out while I was away. I have not known just friends to fall apart so violently.”

“Great, thanks for your input,” Steve snapped.

“Input on what?” Tony grumbled, shuffling into the kitchen with his hair a mess and eyes barely open. His usual ‘I barely made it out of bed’ look any time before noon.

“Nothing!” Steve shouted, his voice going a few pitches higher than normal, which earned a snort from Bucky and Rhodey.

“On whether or not Steve’s breakfast cooking has improved,” Nat added in, coming to the rescue. Steve could have kissed her, but he would rather not get punched by Bucky before they sparred later.

When Tony sat down on a barstool at the kitchen island, Steve handed him a mug full of coffee and placed a plate of food in front of him. Tony smiled happily up at him, still shrouded in sleepiness, and barely functioning.

“Thanks, Cap,” he hummed, sipping the coffee and observing the food before him. “I’d say he’s mastered breakfast. It took a decade, but he did it.”

“Hey,” Steve whined.

Tony just smirked and took a huge bite of eggs.

“Right, well, Buck and I are off to the gym to spar,” Steve huffed, setting his dishes in the sink and shooting his best friend a pointed glare.

“Right, we are” Bucky replied dryly.

When they left the kitchen, Tony glanced over at Rhodey with a frown. “What’s his problem?”

“I don’t have the faintest idea,” Rhodey answered, hiding his smirk behind his mug when Tony looked away.

 

~

 

“Sir, Peter Parker is on his way down,” Friday’s voice announced over the speakers in the workshop.

Tony looked up from the project he was working on, pushing his goggles to the top of his head, and smiled brightly. “Let him on in.”

“Mr. Stark!” Peter exclaimed, rushing in and running straight to give Tony a tight hug.

Tony eagerly hugged the kid back—god it had been over a month since he had seen him last. And the last time he saw him he was shamefully drunk and off kilter. His heart dropped—he needed to make up for that. And apologize. He seemed to be apologizing a lot lately, but that was probably a sign of growth or some bullshit like that.

“Peter—its good to see you. I didn’t know you were coming,” Tony said, pulling out of the hug and looking down at the teen suspiciously.

“I know, I know—I convinced Happy to bring me over without telling you, because I wanted to show you the new webshooter tech I developed and I—well, I missed you,” Peter mumbled.

“Hey, I missed you too,” Tony said softly.

He wasn’t sure when Peter had snuck his way into his heart and set up shop, but whenever it happened he was instantly a goner. Peter had reminded him so much of himself as a kid, before the cruelty of life corrupted him—brilliant and eager to learn. Innocent and wide-eyed. He had reminded him of Harley, too, far too pure for this horrible world. Tony remembered his first instinct, once he had really gotten to know the kid, was a desire to shield him from all the bad things life had to offer.

Instead, he threw him right into the middle of the Avengers Civil War.

Tony had a lot of regrets in life, but Peter was never going to be one of them.

He did, however, regret getting drunk off his ass the last time he saw the kid.

“Hey, Pete—we need to talk.”

“Oh god, is this about me taking on Scorpion alone? Look I know I promised—“

“You did what now?” Tony shrieked, face paling.

“Ohhh—so you didn’t find out about that. Uh, oops?”

  
“Peter—god, no, we are definitely talking about that later. No this is,” Tony took a deep breath. “This is about the last time you were here.”

Peter frowned, clearly not tracking what Tony was alluding to.

“Peter—I got irresponsibly drunk when I brought you here for the family dinner and I promptly fell apart. I was responsible for watching over you, getting you home, and I failed. You deserve better from me. I should have never put any of that on you—I’m trying to say sorry. I’m sorry,” Tony explained.

“You don’t need to apologize.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, it’s fine.”

“It isn’t,” he stressed.

But Peter rolled his eyes in response.

“What?” Tony snapped.

“Sometimes I think you forget,” Peter said, shrugging.

“Forget what?”

“That you’re human too. That you’re not actually made out of iron and tech. You’re a person and people screw up. I screw up daily, I think.”

And once again, Peter managed to render Tony speechless, something the kid was doing more frequently as of late. He was continually amazed by the wisdom Peter carried within him. Tony was smart at Peter’s age, but he wasn’t wise. No—Peter was destined to be better than him, now and later.

“Alright, so what’s this about new web tech?” Tony asked. He decided to scream at him about Scorpion later.

 

~

 

Tony had been having a pretty good run for the last month—minus his reckless battle behavior, but he chose not to think about that much—so it made sense it would eventually all go to shit. Thankfully, this time Peter had already gone home before it started to unfold.

  
Everyone was hanging out in the living room after dinner—Thor, Rhodey, Bruce, Nat, Bucky, Tony, and Steve—and it had started out as a great idea. Tony wasn’t sure where it started going downhill, but once it began it blew up fast.

“Today’s the anniversary of my mother’s death,” Thor announced solemnly.

“Oh god—Thor, I’m sorry, we didn’t realize,” Steve said, reaching over to hold onto his friend’s shoulder in a sign of support. They were sat on the opposite side of the couch away from where Tony sat with Rhodey to his left and Bucky and Nat to his right. Bruce, of course, sat in his special Hulk sized chair adjacent to the couch.

“No, do not feel bad,” Thor reassured, smiling at Steve and swallowing down his emotions. “What was your mother like?”

“My mom?” Steve startled, but he recovered and continued. “God—she was amazing. The strongest woman I’ve ever met. Even when she was dying of tuberculosis she would work and make sure I had something to eat—Buck, you knew her, wasn’t she strong?”

“Yeah Steve, the strongest,” Bucky agreed.

“What about your mother, Bruce?” Thor asked, slowly making his way around the room.

“Oh my mom—she did her best. But my father…he was an awful man, a monster—he abused her, my sisters, me—yeah. She did her best. I loved her,” he replied.

“Rhodey?”

“My mom—she was pretty epic. Brilliant and strong. She taught me how to be a good person,” he replied, smiling at the thought.

“Anthony—“

“My mother was a coward and an opportunist. She married Howard for the money and was shit at raising a kid. I think I could have ended up liking her because we started to get along when I became an adult, but I can’t know for sure. Because she died when I was twenty-one,” Tony snapped, glancing over at Bucky with fire burning in his eyes.

“Tony,” Steve warned.

“What? I don’t think I’ve shared it with the class yet. You know what—even if I have—fuck it. Yeah, Buckaroo over there murdered my parents. What a trip, right? God—I can only imagine how furious Howard would be now. Me, housing his murderer and an ex-Hydra operative,” Tony laughed darkly.

“Tony,” Nat warned this time, giving him a stern look and doing her best to communicate that this was a horrible idea.

“Actually—wait a minute—Bruce, I never explained it to you, did I? We got viciously attacked by Thanos’ monstrous space children before I could,” Tony continued, ignoring Nat and Steve, and standing. He walked over to stand in front of the couch and everyone on it—he was vibrating with energy.

“See, ol’ Buckaroo savagely murdered my parents and Steve found out. Now, what does Steve do? Steve, my best—“ the words get choked up in his throat. “Well, instead of trusting me enough to tell me, he keeps it from me. And we part ways in Siberia after he and Bucky tag team beat the shit out of me and it ends with a spangled shield in my chest, nearly killing me, actually.”

“Tony,” Rhodey chimed in this time. He stood and grabbed his friend gently, one hand on his shoulder and the other on his elbow. “Tony, that’s in the past.”

“Anyway Thor—does that answer your question? About my mother?” Tony snapped, yanking his arm away from Rhodey before storming out of the room.

“Way to go, Thor,” Rhodey groaned, throwing his hands up in the air once Tony was out of earshot.

“I apologize—I did not realize it would open up a wound. I had thought he and Steve had reconciled,” Thor replied, frowning. It was apparent he felt guilt as if it were genuinely his fault.

Nat sighed.

“Thor, it’s not your fault Tony’s a jealous child about some things,” she said. Bucky finally looked up from the floor and gave Steve a pointed look.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” was all he said.

“Buck, don’t be. I had thought Tony and I made up but—but these are my mistakes he’s upset about. Not yours,” he explained. And then, as if Nat’s comment had just reached his ears, “Wait, jealous?”

She buried her face in the palms of her hands and groaned audibly. After a second, she looked up and gave Steve a tight smile.

“You’re pretty but you can be a real idiot sometimes, Rogers,” Nat started. “Tony’s been jealous of you and Bucky since forever. He thought he was your best friend.”

  
“But—Rhodey’s his best friend,” he protested, not catching on.

  
“I am,” Rhodey boasted. “But Tony’s a child sometimes. I love him, but he is. And he’s allowed to have multiple best friends, but no one else is.”

“Well that’s just—“

“Stupid, I know,” Nat continued. “But now that’s hardly the point. So, he’s always been jealous and then you and this man, who not only murdered his parents, but stole you away from him tag team jump him in Siberia—nearly kill him—I mean. Yeah, that’s a hard wound to stitch up after one good conversation.”

And when Steve got up and started walking towards Tony’s room—

“I suggest you talk to him tomorrow,” Rhodey said. “He needs the space. Trust me.”

“Fine,” Steve grumbled. He promptly spun on his heel and retreated to his own room to sulk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who is reading along! I'm sorry to end this chapter on a sad note...and the next chapter reveals so more bumps in the road...but what else is a good angsty slow-burn for? :) Please leave comments, they brighten my day more than you will ever know!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Tony's outburst at Bucky and Steve, he decides the best plan is to hide away from everyone. But the isolation wears him down and when an old friend texts that he is in town, Tony eagerly accepts the invitation to meet up. 
> 
> Quick Author's Note: This chapter includes some Tony/Tiberius Stone. This will only happen in this chapter and is clearly a mistake that Tony makes. Essentially, yes, I am using Tiberius as a plot device.

Tony decided the best thing to do the next morning was go to extreme lengths to avoid everyone in the compound. Thankfully, Friday could serve as his eyes and assist in making sure he did not cross paths with anyone.

He knew that his outburst last night was wrong. He knew that, but he didn’t feel it. And the crippling loneliness of avoiding his friends—his family—was rapidly setting in. Though he refused to admit it aloud, Tony had grown accustomed to spending time with the different members of the Avengers team throughout the day. It was a crucial part of his routine—chatting with Thor over breakfast or sparring with Nat in the afternoon. Hell—he and Bruce had just started working on a really big project together.

The majority of his time had ended up being spent in his workshop, with the windows tinted black so no one could see in, and a strict order to Friday that no one was allowed in. Steve came by knocking and begging to be let in on no less than four occasions. Nat stopped by to yell some profanities his way—thank god he could enable soundproofing.

By the third day of isolation, Tony had resorted to playing old Avenger’s Tower home videos.  
Clint at the time had insisted every proper family took home videos, and now, seeing him on-screen brought tears to Tony’s eyes. He had not fully given himself permission to mourn the loss of his arrow wielding friend.

“I could really use your shitty humor right now, Legolas,” Tony grumbled, turning off the video and rolling around on the bed in a fit of frustration.

And just as the loneliness started creeping back in, his phone pinged with a notification. He sighed, expecting it to be Steve or someone begging him to come out of hiding. Instead, he found:

**Ty  
Tony, long time no see, I’m in town. You free? **

“God,” Tony breathed out.

It had been over a decade since he last saw Tiberius Stone in person. They had parted on amicable terms but neither had bothered to reach out in ten years. That clearly—well—it meant something. Perhaps it had something to do with Tony cutting off their friends with benefits arrangement out of nowhere and picking Pepper over him.

But who could know for sure?

**Tony  
Sure thing—when? **

**Ty  
Tonight? Now?**

**Tony  
Eleven Madison Park in thirty? **

**Ty  
Can’t wait. :)**

They got a small booth tucked away in the corner, for privacy, with a single small tea light candle flickering in the middle. The chairs were large and cushiony—so entirely comfortable Tony wouldn’t mind being swallowed whole by one. The restaurant’s lantern chandeliers were dimmed to give mood lighting for the patrons—considering anyone out for dinner this late was usually on a romantic date.

Tony wasn’t sure if this was a date or a simple catch-up conversation. Either way, he could roll with it.

“It’s been a long time,” Tony started, sipping his water and raising an eyebrow in Ty’s direction.

“Over a decade, actually,” Tiberius mused.

“I know—Ty, I’m sorry, I didn’t anticipate having to end things so suddenly like that. I mean, I had no idea—“

“That Pepper actually had feelings for you, too? Yeah, I know. I don’t hold a grudge, really,” Ty insisted. “Even though I told you a million times that she did, in fact, love you, too.”

“Yeah well, you know me,” Tony grumbled.

“I do, Tony. I’ve known you since we were children shipped away to boarding school together,” Tiberius laughed. “You don’t love yourself so you find it bizarre to even consider that someone else might.”

He shifted in his seat, rendered quiet for the first time in a long time.

“But really—no grudges. We weren’t dating Tony, we were fucking. We did that dating thing in college and it failed miserably, remember?” Tony’s laugh confirmed that he did. “We were only ever good in bed together—really good at that, if I remember correctly.”

Tony smirked, sipping more of his water. At this point it was obvious where this conversation and reunion was going. He should have expected as much from Ty—the man only ever had his own self-interest in mind when it came down to it. Despite his best attempts to appear selfless, in reality, Tiberius was a taker without abandon. And the majority of his life, Tony had not minded that his oldest and closest friend was a user because for the majority of his life he had plenty to give. But now, sitting across from Tiberius, Tony felt depleted—what did he have to give? He barely had enough emotional energy for himself. If Tiberius tried to leech off of him now, he would leave hungry—just as empty as Tony felt inside. And yet, Tony found himself leaning into the temptation Ty was slowly laying out before him.

“Yes, I do seem to remember that too.”

“I’m sorry about the divorce, by the way,” Tiberius said, lowering his voice and smile vanishing.

“Oh that’s really fucking bad timing Ty. You’re a real class act, you know that?” Tony snapped. “That was anything but smooth.”

“No really—you know I’m not good at these things. But it has been all over the news. I wanted to check in—see if you were—you know, okay,” Tiberius fumbled. “I care. I’ve always cared, Tony.”

Tony sat there, quietly appraising him. He should have known that Ty wanted to jump in bed with him the second he heard about his divorce. That’s what users and takers did—they used, they took.

Had it always been this way? He remembered when he first met Ty in boarding school decades ago. When they had both just been shipped off to school by fathers that saw them as nothing but inconveniences they found each other. Back then he had thought they found refuge in one another.

 

~

 

 

_Tony was sitting in the lunch room, off in the corner alone, making it abundantly clear he did not want to bothered. His first day at St. Benedict’s had been miserable at best—older students had made fun of him, teased him for who his father was, reminded him how much their fathers hated his—he was an outcast instantly._

_Now, at lunch, he was doing his best to make it seem like being an outcast was his own original idea. The whispers and rumors about him were humming throughout the school. It made him nauseous._

_Just as the hopelessness was starting to really set in a boy with blond hair and piercing blue eyes dropped his plate on the table across from Tony. He sat down and started at him intensely._

_“Your father is Howard Stark,” he started._

_“Yeah. And I’m sure your dad hates my dad,” Tony grumbled, not even bothering to give the other kid eye contact. He just kept eating._

_“Yeah, he does,” the kid replied. He shrugged and took a bite of food. When Tony did not respond, the kid spoke up again. “But I hate my dad. So I don’t care. I’m Tiberius, but you can call me Ty. Ty Stone.”_

_Tony finally looked up and frowned at the outstretched hand in front of him. It was not making any sense—this kid wanted to be friends? At first, Tony was sure this was a trick—but if it were a trick, well, then Tony could outsmart him—he decided it was worth the risk. He shook Ty’s hand._

_“I’m Tony—well, Anthony—but you can call me Tony. Stark. But you already knew that,” Tony replied._

_“Yeah. Like I said—my dad haaaates your dad,” Ty giggled. “Do you hate your father too?”_

_Tony swallowed._

_“Yup.”_

_“Cool—then we’ll stick together. Forever. Okay, Tony? I got your back.”_

_“Okay.”_

 

 

~

 

 

“Yeah, I know you care, Ty,” Tony sighed, relenting. “You’ve just got a shit way about showing it.”

Tiberius laughed and called the waitress back over.

“Two Whiskey sours, please.”

“Ty—“ Tony started, looking alarmed and reaching across the table to grab his friend’s arm. But Tiberius stared him down, raising his eyebrows, and waiting to see if Tony would continue his protest. It was Tony who backed down. “Okay.”

Was he honestly that weak? His vice offered up to him and he did not even bother to utter a word of protest? Tony liked to think he was stronger than that but—apparently, not.

Even the thought of amber liquid sliding down his throat, burning, stirred an unholy excitement in his belly. Maybe, just this once, would not be a mistake. It was a celebration—he had not seen Tiberius in years—and they deserved to enjoy themselves. How could that be a bad idea? It would be like the good old days in college. Just this once. And no one had to know.

When their drinks arrived Tony downed his in an act of desperation. The taste of it on his tongue felt familiar and right, despite his two months of sobriety, he suddenly could not imagine a moment longer without it. Its spicy warmth trailed from the tip of his tongue to the bottom of his belly—it was comforting. It was liquid safety. The buzz reverberated throughout his veins. God, this felt good.

Ty ordered him another.

Approximately an hour later, Tony had five Whiskey sours in his system, and Tiberius Stone in his bed back at the compound. They were lying side-by-side, on their backs, giggling like school children. Tony had just forced them to perform the classic high school mission of sneaking back into one’s room. And with Tony drunk off his ass, Ty tipsy, and Tony swearing they could not be seen by a single soul—the mission had gone anything but smoothly.

“I can’t—I can’t believe,” Ty laughed so hard he was gasping for air. “You made me hide in the bushes—for—for twenty minutes.”

“Look,” Tony slurred. “I couldn’t…m’not…nevermind.”

He dissolved into a fit of laughter with Ty. The feeling of Ty’s lips against his was natural—this was something they had always done. This was the part of their friendship they were the best at. They fumbled around, shucking off their clothes, eager to feel skin on skin.

Something in the far back corner of Tony’s brain said this was not a good idea. It was the same voice he easily silenced back in the restaurant over an hour ago. But now the alcohol all but drowned it out.

Instead, Tony straddled Ty’s hips and bathed in how brilliant it felt to be naked against another person again. He gasped in pleasure, letting himself get absolutely lost in it, as Ty carefully pushed into him.

And if Tiberius heard him moan Steve’s name he chose to ignore it.

 

~

 

 

This was officially the worst hangover of his life, Tony decided as he stumbled into the kitchen. It felt like a team of sculptors had taken ice picks to his skull. The pounding was what he assumed it would feel like to get repeatedly bashed in the head by the Hulk’s fist. Pain was usually something he could bear, hell, hangovers were something he had thought he had mastered—he was wrong. Apparently, your first hangover after your longest period of sobriety ever was murderous.

He took three more Tylenol than he needed to and downed two glasses of water in record time. And he had forgotten his plan to avoid everyone in the compound until Steve and Nat came walking into the kitchen. They both caught one glance of him and knew. He knew they knew.

“Tony,” Steve started, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice.

“Listen, Spangles, now is not the time. I’m not really in the mood for a lecture. In fact, I doubt I could even hear it over the sound of my headache,” Tony snarled, defensive, and feeling cornered.

“Tony,” Nat jumped in, her tone gentle and nonjudgmental. “What happened? You were doing really well.”

“Old friend showed up.”

“Who?” she continued.

“Ty,” Tony replied without elaboration. He didn’t need to—Nat had known him from her time pretending to be a secretary. And she had been aware of the nature of their relationship. That one time she walked in still horrified Tony to this day.

“Oh god, Tony,” Nat groaned, running a hand over her face. “He’s—“

“A bad influence, I know,” Tony grumbled. “You think I don’t know that? That is exactly why I answered his text. I was lonely and horny and I like attention.”

Steve startled at that, caught somewhere between upset and concerned.

“Tony, if you were lonely,” Steve said, trying to bridge the emotional gap between the two of them. “You could have come to us.”

“Oh? And who, exactly, is lining up to fuck me?” Tony snapped. “I said what I said, Cap. I wanted to get drunk and have sex. Ty texted. It was fate.”

“Is he still here?” Nat asked, trying to distract from the fact that Steve looked like a kicked puppy. “Ty?”

“Natalia!” Ty exclaimed, sauntering into the kitchen on cue as if he had been listening in and waiting for the right time to show himself. “It has been too long.”

He was wearing one of Tony’s black Stark Industries tees and boxers. A dark purple hickey was visible on his neck and he smirked proudly. He was flaunting his sexual encounter with Tony like a peacock.

“Keep your goddamn voice down,” Tony grumbled, wincing and leaning on the kitchen island, cradling his head in his hands. He refused to actively engage with this bullshit.

“Ty,” Nat replied, her voice suddenly harsh. “Can’t say the same.”

“Aw, come on Natasha. Why must you despise me so?” Ty whined, walking over to Tony and slinging his arm around his shoulders. Tony grunted in response.

Nat narrowed her eyes, arms crossed, and observed the scene before her. The first time she meant Tiberius she had warned Tony that he was a user and manipulator and that he should cut him off immediately. Obviously, that had not gone well. That was not the sort of advice Tony had been looking for from his secretary at the time. When Tony chose Pepper, Nat had celebrated the removal of Ty from Tony’s life and had hoped to never see him again.

Seeing him now, in the kitchen with his arm around Tony, elicited a visceral desire to protect her friend. A primal anger—both for Tony’s safety and for Steve’s heart (which she knew was currently being broken). It took an alarming amount of self-restraint not to remove Ty’s arm from Tony and break it in half.

“You know why I despise you. I have a list of reasons,” she snarled. “But most importantly, right now, I despise you for fucking up Tony’s sobriety.”

“Sobriety?” he asked, turning to Tony and feigning surprise. “Tony, I had no idea.”

“Fuck off, yes you did,” Nat interrupted. “It has been an international news story. If you knew about the divorce, which you did and that is how you weaseled your way into his bed, then you knew about the sobriety.”

Unlike Natasha, Steve was still as a statue while channeling all his energy into remaining calm. He was seeing red, silently seething, and ready to beat Ty’s face into a pulp on a moment’s notice. But the rage inside of him did not feel justified or earned—Tony was allowed to do as he pleased and he was a grown adult. He did not even know this Tiberius character, but Nat did, and her anger towards him made him feel mildly better about his own.

However, the ache in his chest was an entirely different feeling but he pushed it to the side for later.

“You should go,” Tony interjected, standing up and looking Ty in the eyes. “You need to go, actually.”

“Are you sure? You’re going to let your friends bully you into asking me to leave?” Ty questioned.

“I’m serious. Get out or I will actually let Natasha break your bones the way she wants to,” Tony replied. He stepped away from his lifelong friend and sat down on a stool on the other side of the island. “Get your things. Friday will call you a car. It will meet you outside.”

Tony’s orders hung in the air and no one moved. When Ty seemed defiant, Steve stepped in.

“You need me to show you the way out, buddy?” Steve asked, stepping closer to Ty while standing as tall as he could. Suddenly, the width of his shoulders and the bulk of his muscles was beyond intimidating.

“N-no. I’ll go,” Ty stammered, turning to give Tony one last glance, before shuffling out.

Once Friday announced that Tiberius has been picked up by the car, Tony stood up and stomped his way to his room, promptly slamming the door shut and ordering Friday not to let anyone in.

 

 

~

 

 

“Who the fuck was that guy?” Steve asked, as he and Nat sat down for breakfast. And while the plate of food in front of him looked delicious, he had lost his appetite.

Nat sipped her coffee, watching Steve closely and considering how to respond to his question. She had seen the heartbreak plastered across his face when he realized that Tony broke his sobriety. And then she saw it get worse when he heard about Tony’s one-night stand. Natasha was not an idiot, far from it, and she had been aware of Steve’s feelings, albeit complicated ones, for Tony for a long time now. These feelings were anything but new, however, the divorce and Tony moving back into the compound had added new, strange layers to the entire situation.

She took another sip of her coffee before sighing loudly.

“Tiberius Stone. Probably Tony’s oldest friend, they met back in boarding school when Tony was seven. They bonded over mutual hatred for their fathers, who conveniently hated each other, and proceeded to stick together. Even went to MIT together,” she explained.

“When I was given the mission of observing Tony as his secretary, Tiberius was still in Tony’s life. They were,” she inhaled. “Friends with benefits. Tony’s file said their previous endeavors to date seriously had ended in a volatile fashion. Anyway, I walked in on them once. Worst day of my life.”

Steve laughed, but it was hollow and forced.

“I got a reading on Tiberius instantly. He’s a user. A social climber. And everything he does is for his own best interest only. He might be a sociopath. I warned Tony to stay away from him, but you can imagine he did not take too kindly to that. Especially coming from his new secretary who had never had a real conversation with Tiberius before. And given that Tiberius had been his friend for over thirty years…anyway. Once Pepper kissed him, he kicked Tiberius to the curb. I was overjoyed and hoped I would never have to see his slimy face again. Clearly, that was foolish of me.”

When she finished, Steve was quiet, clenching his fists in his lap and staring blankly at the table. Nat felt guilty for having shared such detailed information with him—knowing what she knew it felt irresponsible. But Steve deserved to have the full truth, especially if he were ever going to act on his feelings for Tony. He had not explicitly shared the extent of his feelings for the other man, but there was a slight silent understanding between the two of them. Though Steve kept it to himself, he was also acutely aware that Nat was trained to perceive things that went over most people’s heads. On some level—he knew she knew.

But for now, it remained unspoken, hidden away for another time.

“Steve?”

“I’m just thinking about how I should have punched that guy’s teeth in.”

“Yeah, not until I get first swing.”

 

 

~

 

 

Unable to eat, and even less capable of sitting still, Steve decided to go out for a second run.

The blood pumping through his veins, his feet against the hard ground, and the air harsh against his face was the only place he found peace these days. It let out all his anxious energy and gave him time alone to think. _Really_ think.

He was a glutton for self-inflicted punishment. Even with the serum coursing through his DNA the cold wind burned his cheeks. And the length of his runs when he got into this mindset wreaked havoc on the soles of his feet. But god bless that serum, because both ailments healed themselves within the hour after he got done.

His mind was racing faster than his legs and he was desperate to outrun it.

The majority of the team had caught on to his feelings for Tony. Thankfully, most of them thought it was a passing crush. It was something that would fade over time and as a result, besides teasing him whenever Tony was not around, no one pushed him too hard over it. To the best of his observation skills, he was pretty certain only Bucky and Nat knew the truth. And despite never having uttered a word about his feelings, somehow two of his closest friends had figured him out—well, actually, that was exactly how they’d figured him out. It was obvious how she knew. And Bucky, he guessed, knew him better than anyone. There was no hiding something from him, no matter how hard he tried. And damn it, he really tried.

He felt exposed. Uncomfortable. The second Nat was done explaining the mysterious Tiberius Stone, Steve sprinted out of the room and off for a run. He felt her investigative stare and needed to be free from it. He resented being analyzed without his permission. And hell, he knew when it came to Tony his poker face was not nearly as proficient as it should be. Sometimes he missed his ability to be stone faced, the way he was when he first met Tony, when all they did was bicker and lob insults back and forth. At least back then no one could read his feelings on his face with ease.

It had taken years, but Tony had worn him down. Now Tony’s worst behaviors were endearing. His sassy attitude was actually funny and not offensive. And Steve could detect the genuine compliments and kindness hidden between witty remarks. Steve had lost his resolve—a stone face did not suffice anymore.

But this morning Tony was hungover with a narcissistic sociopath in his bed. Suddenly, Steve remembered how miserable Tony looked hunched over the kitchen island with his head in his hands. The bitter sorrow tone in his voice. The way he finally snapped at Ty to get him out of the compound.

Steve stopped in his tracks, letting his knees giving out, and fell to the ground.

Heartbreak was too kind of a word for the way he felt seeing Tony break his sobriety. And devastation was too soft for the feeling of learning that Tony had a man in his bed. Those feelings came back to him now, welling up inside his chest, as he let himself really feel them this time. He was alone—far enough away from the main building that if he cried no one would hear him. The anguish gurgled up in his throat until the tears spilled down his cheeks.

All he wanted was to see Tony succeed—no, more than that—thrive.

He slammed his fists into the ground. When that yielded no relief he tried it again. And again. And again. And again until his hands were covered in dirt and the tears had soaked his shirt.

Steve knew he was not responsible for Tony’s sobriety. He was not responsible for anything Tony did or did not do. But he could not shake the feeling of failure that washed over him. If only he could have been there—been more for Tony—maybe, then this would not have happened. Then Tiberius would have never made his way into Tony’s bed. And Tony’s sobriety would still be intact.

Resigned, he sat there and sobbed to his heart’s content. Steve never gave himself permission to cry. He was a soldier, the leader, and he maintained his emotional strength at all times. But even a leader needed to cry. It was something he allowed only when in solitude and only when it became too much to hold in.

It was too much too hold in.

 

~

 

 

 

Tony did not resurface for another eight hours. He had taken ample time to recover from his excruciating hangover. It was important to him that when he interacted with anyone from the team that his hangover did not get in the way and sour the mood. He could not remember the last time alcohol knocked him this hard off his feet. Maybe it had been in college when he and Rhodey snuck into Jared Lynch’s graduation party. Tony had so much to drink that night he completely blacked out and woke up in a stranger’s bed. That hangover was a nightmare.

But no, even still, this one was way worse. Begrudgingly, Tony knew that likely had something to do with his age. And he remembered reading something about sobriety lessening the system’s ability to handle alcohol intake after a while or some bullshit.

Part of him yearned for the days when everything wasn’t so serious—before Afghanistan, before learning of Obie’s betrayal, before the Avengers. He knew it was morally reprehensible to feel this way. He knew the person he used to be was selfish, often cruel, and reckless. But he couldn’t help but desire for things to be easy again. He just wanted a break—who could blame him? Was that wrong?

Probably, Tony thought grimly. He knew that being Tony Stark—being Iron Man—required greater and nobler things from him. Most days that was precisely where his motivation came from, but this evening, on the edge of recovering from a hangover, it was what made him want to hide away from all the responsibility. Run away from it. Let someone else handle it for a little bit.

Tony took a deep breath. The nausea lingered in the periphery but otherwise he felt fine. Finally, he emerged from his refuge and made his way into the living room. Relief washed over him when he found only Nat, Rhodey, and Steve there. He was not ready to face Bucky or anyone else. At least with these three he felt safe—comfortable.

Before anyone could speak, he flopped down on the couch and held up a hand. “I know. I fucked up. But if it makes anyone feel any better, this hangover has been hell and really put me off alcohol instead of making me miss it. I don’t plan on drinking again.”

When he was met with silence, he decided to continue, “I’m sorry. I really am. I let you all down. Hell, I let myself down. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Tones,” Rhodey replied. He reached over and patted Tony’s knee. “Sobriety is not always a linear journey. We understand. I don’t think any of us are angry with you. This stuff isn’t meant to be easy.”

“He’s right, Tony. I’m not mad about the alcohol,” Nat chimed in. “Tiberius, on the other hand.”

“I know,” Tony groaned. “That was also a poor choice. He’s not invited back over for any more sleepovers.”

Nat raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“I mean it,” he said. “Really. Nat—I never wanted to see him the way you do. I’ve tried for years to convince myself you’ve been wrong about him. But even last night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that your view of him is who he really is. I’ve been blinded by nostalgia. By the comfort of having someone in my life for so long. But, no, you’re right. He sucks.”

“Thank god,” Rhodey sighed. “It is about time.”

“Wait, you too?” Tony jumped in surprise, looking at Rhodey as if he had just revealed a crime.

“Tones, I’ve hated that guy forever. Back in college all he did was use and abuse you for sex and popularity.”

“Huh. Well, thanks for telling me.”

“I’ve told you about a hundred times,” Rhodey argued. “You just never listen.”

“Yeah, that sounds like me,” he resigned.

Tony caught Steve’s eyes from across the room—they were sitting on entirely opposite ends of the large U-shaped couch that took up half of the space. He saw something that he couldn’t name lingering on Steve’s expression and it broke his heart. Maybe it was disappointment or maybe it was something else—Tony was not sure. He knew Steve thought the world of him even though he consistently gave him reasons not to. Whenever Tony wanted to feel better about himself he pretended to see himself the way Steve saw him. But here they sat, across from one another, countless unspoken thoughts hanging in the air between them.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that this morning, Cap,” Tony said to break the silence. “You should have never been inflicted with the pain of meeting Ty.”

“Yeah, could have done without that,” Steve quipped. “But you don’t have to apologize. He’s a manipulator, right? He caught wind of how emotionally comprised you’ve been and swooped in. That’s on him. Not you.”

Tony clutched his heart, swooning like a romance novel heroine.

“Why Captain, you’re too kind. You’re so committed to keeping me honorable. However might I repay you, kind sir?”

“Oh Tony, I think we all know your honor was lost long ago,” Steve fired back. This time he decided not to back down and play their little game. It had been ages since he and Tony lobbed jests back and forth—he missed it.

“Fair. But I did lose it on my own terms,” Tony laughed.

“Over and over and over again,” Rhodey added, smirking.

“What about you, Cap?” Tony zeroed back in on Steve, smirking, staring at him with a fiery intensity. “Where’s your honor stand these days?”

Steve’s mouth hung open and words failed to form. It was as if he short-circuited. He was left sputtering instead. He was never entirely sure when Tony was joking or flirting with him. But this instance definitely felt like flirting. And if the amusement on Nat’s face and her raised eyebrows were any indication—he was right.

Flirting was in Tony’s DNA and Steve knew that. It was an essential part of how Tony navigated the world. Well—before his marriage to Pepper it had been. And now that he was freshly divorced it seemed to be a habit he slipped back into without a second thought. Except, so far, Steve could not recall Tony tossing any flirtatious lines anyone’s way except his. He was thinking about it too much—he knew that—but it felt unbelievably divine to think Tony was flirting with him.

And Tony continued on, encouraged by Steve’s blush and sputtering rather than put off by it. “What’s wrong, Rogers? Cat got your tongue? Or has someone else laid claim to it?”

“N-no,” he finally stammered. “No. Nope, uh, no. I’m not dating anyone. If that’s what you mean.”

The room was crackling with electricity. The space between them was simultaneously a massive cavern and too small—suffocating. They were honed in on each other—everyone else melted away like they always did whenever they bantered or argued. Their gazes rested on one another—comfortable, familiar, and yet a little forbidden. Enticing. Everything they should say—that they wanted to say—remaining unspoken but undergirding each word.

“You mean to tell me the hottest piece of ass in America isn’t getting laid?” Tony asked. “Well, we will absolutely have to solve that.”

“I’m fine, Tony. Really.”

“Been that long, huh?”

“Tony.”

“Any woman would be lucky to have you in the sack.” Tony got a wicked look on his face. “Or guy. To have sex with Captain America? I mean—that’s got to be on thousands if not millions of bucket lists.”

Steve hid his face in his hands and groaned. He needed a break from Tony’s gaze—those beautiful, brilliant brown eyes bearing down onto him—he just needed a second of respite. The way Tony looked at him made his stomach twist and turn into knots. It was thrilling and terrifying.

“Wait—wait a minute,” Tony continued. He truly had no idea how to shut up. “Cap, are you a virgin?”

And god bless Nat—fantastic, amazing Natasha—she swooped in and saved him from utter humiliation.

“He’s definitely not a virgin,” she laughed. “The amount of times I walked in on him and Sharon when we were on the run was embarrassing.”

Never mind—she was a traitor, too. Steve shot her a look that he hoped communicated his anger and his intention on yelling at her later. She just shrugged.

“Ooohhh, right. I should have known,” Tony smirked. “You like to keep it in the family. Well—one specific family.”

“Goddamn it, Tony,” Steve balked. “Low blow.”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Tony chuckled. “So you and Ms. Carter, hm? That not work out?”

“Obviously, Tony. I said I wasn’t dating anyone.”

“Hmmm. Noted,” Tony replied cryptically.

From there the evening devolved into a vicious game of Monopoly that ended with Nat victorious and Tony and Rhodey arguing that she cheated. Steve was grateful that they were all able to settle back into normal conversation and banter after his odd exchange with Tony. And when Nat and Rhodey shared looks that communicated things he did not understand, he elected to ignore them. It felt too amazing to be watching Tony laugh and finally let loose for him to be concerned with the others hyper-analyzing his every move.

After Monopoly everyone else excused themselves for bed, but Steve stayed behind and curled up on the couch with his sketchbook. He was far from tired and his earlier interactions with Tony were reeling through his mind on repeat. Flipping the sketchpad open to a blank page, he started on a new piece of Tony and Peter. They were working together in Tony’s workshop, smiling and laughing. As he drew he was not sure if he would ever give this to Tony or not, but the image of him and Peter happy together brought him joy. Maybe this would be the first drawing he ever actually gifted someone.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice broke him out of his artistic flow. He looked up to see him standing on the outskirts of the living room, a blanket in hand, and his hair stuck up in every direction possible. Steve knew that look immediately.

“Tony—hey, you okay?” he asked, shutting his sketchbook and standing up. He was at Tony’s side instantly.

Tony looked up at him, dark circles under his eyes, and sweat glistening all over his skin. He stared for a few long, hard moments as if he was not sure if Steve was real or not. His heart was pounding violently in his chest and his hands were trembling uncontrollably. Finally, he got the courage to speak up again, “No. Really bad nightmare. Really bad.”

“It’s okay Tony—I’m here,” Steve said, reaching out to touch Tony’s arms carefully. “Let’s get you back to bed, okay?”

He helped turn Tony around and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, steering him down the hall and back into his room. Tony trembled under Steve’s touch. He was seconds away from coming apart at the seams—the images of his nightmare still haunting him in his waking moments. But Steve’s soothing voice, his gentle touch, his constant reassurances as they walked back to his room—slowly he became grounded again. This was real. This was reality. The atrocities of his nightmare were just that—a nightmare. Not real. This was real. Steve was alive. Steve was okay. Steve was here.

Steve helped Tony back into bed, fluffing up his pillows, and fixing the covers for him.

“My shirt,” Tony complained, sleepy and disoriented. “Sweaty.”

“Come here,” Steve whispered. Tony leaned forward and Steve delicately grabbed the bottom hem of Tony’s shirt and started to pull it up and over his head. His fingers brushed against Tony’s skin and Tony shivered in response. Once the shirt was off and Tony looked at Steve through half-lidded eyes the weight of their earlier conversation that night sunk back over their shoulders. They sat there, the tension palpable, everything unsaid hanging between them. Steve swallowed.

“You need to sleep,” he whispered, breathless.

“Yeah,” Tony conceded. He flopped back onto his pillows and rolled to the side. “M’tired.”

When Steve made no movements to leave, Tony looked up at him, “You’re staying, right?”

The desperation in his eyes made it impossible for Steve to deny his request. “Of course.”

He slipped into the other side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling, listening intently to Tony’s breathing. After a few minutes his breath evened out and softened. Steve smiled, quietly pleased that his presence was able to soothe him. An hour later sleep was victorious over him as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter was a little rough. It is always hard seeing either Tony or Steve in pain. BUT I promise the next chapter is going to be worth the pain we just went through. And Tiberius will absolutely get what he deserves (hint: it is a fist in the face).


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony owes Bucky an apology. And soon after needs to consult Rhodey about some feelings that he can't avoid. 
> 
> What happens when the feelings that have been on the periphery of Tony's mind can no longer be ignored?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely @Nan_Yelo on Twitter. My Winghead. My idea partner. Thank you for all your support.

The next day they got another Assemble call for a Kree orchestrated Chitauri attack on Washington D.C. Previously, Tony had been certain that the Chitauri were long gone and would not be a problem again. Clearly he was wrong. Thankfully, their many encounters with them in the past made quick and easy work of ending the threat. This time it was him, Steve, Bruce, Thor, and Nat who answered the call. If he was being honest, this was his preferred team anyway, because of the history they shared. A bit of him ached knowing that Clint was no longer with them, but they were all still alive thanks to his great sacrifice, and everything they did honored him.

Years of fighting side-by-side made handling the Chitauri a simple task unlike the first time they fought against them. It was funny now, looking back on that first battle together, remembering how clumsy they all were—how they struggled to find a rhythm that actually yielded results. And here they were now—fighting the same threat—and it felt too easy. They would be home before dinner.

“How’s it looking up there Tony?” Bruce yelled over the coms, taking out three Chitauri with one big swing of a fallen pole.

Tony flew above them, surveying the situation, barrel rolling in the air and having a generally fun time. He took out four Chitauri with repulsor blasts before stopping to observe the ground below.

Down on the ground Steve and Thor were fighting back-to-back—Stormbreaker in Thor’s hands and Mjolnir in Steve’s. The Chitauri did not stand a chance against their coordinated attacks and swings. The lightning show was magnificent from above—Tony was constantly in awe by Thor’s thunderous might and now Steve’s, too. Part of him resented Steve’s worthiness for wielding the god ordained hammer, but the other part of him was not surprised by it in the slightest. If anyone besides Thor was worthy, it was Steve Rogers.

“Come on Thor—let me try the big one,” Steve teased in between swings. He took out a line of Chitauri by throwing Mjolnir their way and calling it back into his palm.

“Captain—will all due respect—I do not think you’d know what to do with one this big,” Thor jested, summoning a massive lightning blast onto the hoard that was headed their way. They disappeared into ash and blew away in the wind.

“Oh—I think you’d be surprised at how good I am handling big ones,” Steve replied, a devilish smirk on his face as he turned to face his teammate. Thor stared at him but relented in laughter.

“Alright—just this once,” he agreed, tossing Steve Stormbreaker as he caught Mjolnir in hand.

Tony could not hold back the laughter that erupted from his chest—the entire team had caught Steve and Thor’s exchange over the coms. Joy was bubbling in his chest—which was an odd feeling to experience in the middle of a fight—but he had not been able to shake his high spirits since he woke up.

Granted, he had woken up in Steve’s arms, warm in his blankets with the sunlight softly spilling in from the window across from his bed.

_Consciousness had crept up on him so gently that at first he was certain this was a dream. He was wrapped in Steve’s arms, their legs tangled together, and the blankets twisted all around their bodies. It was warm, but comfortable, and Steve smelled like vanilla and coconut—which had to be the shampoo he’s been using._

_Tony had never seen Steve that deeply at peace and relaxed before. It made something in his chest blossom and tingle. The morning sunlight was cast against his golden hair just perfectly—he was angelic. He wished he could stay like this forever, watching Steve finally rest, picture perfect as ever. But just as he started to indulge thoughts of what it would be like to wake up to this every day, Steve stirred. A few languid blinks revealed piercing blue eyes that widened upon realization of the position he was in._

_“Hey,” Tony whispered, afraid to startle Steve further._

_“Tony,” Steve rasped, voice still coated in sleep. “Sorry.”_

_“It’s okay,” was what Tony said. But his mind was screaming that is was more than okay—that this was perfect, everything he needed and wanted—and how much he wished they could stay like this all day. He wanted to let Steve know this was the safest and happiest he had felt in forever. If he ever found his voice he would tell Steve that his arms felt like home. That he smelled like his wildest dreams come true. But the longer they timidly looked at one another in the early morning light, the more Tony lost his resolve, the more his desires shrunk away into the corner—too afraid of rejection, certain that Steve would rebuke him. The soldier from the 40s who had an affinity for Carter women would be disgusted by Tony’s yearnings for him. There was not a logical scenario that worked out in Tony’s favor here—so instead he let his thoughts and desires go unspoken._

_Steve carefully peeled himself away from Tony’s body and sat up. He ran an unsteady hand through his hair and convinced himself that he did not see disappointment on Tony’s face as he had untangled their limbs. There was nothing real to read into their situation—when people shared a bed it was common to be physically drawn together in their sleep. Plus, Tony was prone to nightmares and was a physical person—cuddling was clearly a source of comfort for him. Hoping for anything beyond that was juvenile._

_“Thanks for staying,” Tony broke the silence as he stood and grabbed a shirt from his closet. He pulled on the AC/DC tee and turned to face Steve. “It was a really shitty nightmare. It felt…so real. When I came into the living room it took a while for me to even believe you weren’t a ghost. I saw everyone…” His voice cracked._

_“You don’t have to explain it, Tony. I know what it’s like,” Steve replied. “I get them too. I’m back in the ice. Or Bucky’s dying again. Or Thanos is back. Each time it is different, but the themes are the same. They can really mess you up.”_

_“Yeah,” Tony whispered. “They do.”_

_“But it’s okay,” Steve replied, referring back to having stayed the night in Tony’s bed. “It can be hard…being alone. No one should be alone when they need someone. I’m always here for you Tony. However you need me to.”_

_That promise felt heavy—weighed down with too many invisible meanings that communicated more than Tony could understand. He swallowed. The air between them started to feel thick again._

_“Well, you get to make me breakfast now. Since I let you hold me against your body and all,” Tony teased, starting to walk out of the room and motioning for Steve to follow. “And while I want to say the pleasure is all mine, because I mean—look at you—I’ve been reliably told I’m the best cuddler ever. So, you’re welcome.”_

And with one final mighty blast of lightning, Steve evaporated the few remaining Chitauri and smugly tossed Stormbreaker back at Thor. Perhaps the morning had put Steve in a good mood, too, Tony wondered. Or hoped. Hoped and wondered. He landed with a thud in front of them, Bruce’s large green body landing with a louder thud afterward, Natasha in his arms. She jumped down to the ground and dusted herself off, surveying the area, and letting out a whistle.

“That was easy,” she quipped. “I think we’re getting the hang of this Avengers stuff, boys.”

“It is about time,” Tony laughed, his nanotech helmet fading away to reveal his head. “Only took a decade.”

“If Thor had shared his toys sooner, maybe it wouldn’t have taken so long,” Steve joked, elbowing Thor in the side who returned the gesture tenfold.

“Nonsense, Captain. I only share when the time is right!”

 

 

~

 

Tony had been avoiding Bucky ever since he snapped in front of him and the others. He knew that even though most of his comments were pointed at Steve that the other man inevitably felt terrible about the entire situation, too. God—Siberia and the Avengers Civil War—that’s what the press had called it—felt like so long ago. But even though it happened years ago, he and Bucky had never cleared the air. Hell, he had yet to even have a full conversation with him. Tony knew it was because of his own childish jealousy and the grudge he held—no matter how hard he tried to let it go—that he refused to fully acknowledge Bucky’s existence. He was letting him live under his roof—the compound—and paid for his food, his new gear—wasn’t that good enough?

Obviously it wasn’t, because after he had apologized to Nat, Rhodey, and Steve he got an earful from the Black Widow about how he ‘wasn’t done giving out apologies’ for what happened. Bitterly, Tony had agreed that she was right and that he would figure out how to go about it. Which led him to where he was now—awkwardly standing outside the library doorway, fiddling with his hands and watching a James Barnes reading inside. He was sitting in a big armchair, his back to Tony and the doorway, book in his lap. Anxiety was swirling in his belly, because apparently even years later Tony feared Bucky’s power—both physically and in the importance he held in Steve’s life. Just as he concerned turning around and leaving, trying again another day, Bucky spoke up.

“Hey man, it is really creepy the way you just keep standing there staring at the back of my head. So are you going to come in or not?” he drawled, snapping the book shut in his lap and turning to raise an eyebrow at Tony.

“I—uh—yeah,” Tony grumbled, embarrassed by how creepy he did look, and he walked in. Reluctantly, he plopped down in the armchair across from Bucky and tried to mentally prepare himself for the conversation. “What are you reading?”

Bucky held up the book—it was an older edition of The Hobbit. “Steve won’t shut up about this book and refuses to let up on me until I read it. I guess I finally gave in because he’s the most annoying little brat sometimes.”

Tony chuckled. “Apologies, I’m the one who made him read that in the first place.”

“Great—yeah no, I knew that. He never shuts up about you, either,” Bucky retorted and relished the look of surprise on Tony’s face. “What? You didn’t know that? You’re Stevie’s favorite thing since sliced bread.”

“I had no idea,” he whispered. Bucky’s comments about Steve made him preen and he desperately wanted to follow him down that line of thinking, his ego was practically screaming for it—he knew that was not why he was here. He made a mental note to explore that later. “Barnes, as much as I would love to hear all the ways Rogers sings my praises, that’s not why I’m here.”

“Oh?” Bucky replied, playing dumb.

Tony bristled, aware that he was being obvious and that Bucky was giving him the benefit of the doubt. The tension and anxiety was rolling off of him in waves. “Yeah—okay, I know I’m not being very subtle about this. But I owe you an apology—and no, not just because Natasha threatened to break my wrist if I didn’t—I really do owe you one. For my comments the other night, yes, but also for holding what happened to my parents over your head.”

He swallowed hard and looked at his folded hands in his lap. His body was shaking but he decided to pretend it wasn’t—he didn’t have time to think about the depths of how hard this was for him.

“You killed them, your hands did, but it wasn’t you. I know that—Hydra fucked you up and made you do their dirty work. I know that’s not who you are—not who you ever were—but I’ve let myself take out my grief and confusion and anger on you.”

“Tony, I,” Bucky started, sitting up straight and actually looking sympathetic for the man sitting across from him.

“No—wait,” Tony held up a quivering hand. “I’m not done.” A deep, shuddering breath. “I’m jealous of you, Barnes. I thought Steve was my best friend and suddenly you waltz into the picture and he keeps secrets from me—about my own parents—and I end up with a shield in my chest. It uh…it broke my heart. But even that isn’t on you. And yet I’ve acted like it was and…I’m sorry. For all of it. And I want to do better.”

They both sat there silently for a few moments—the air in the room tense and heavy with the implications of this conversation. Tony was vigorously twiddling his thumbs and chewing the inside of his cheek. He almost started to stand up and excuse himself when Bucky broke the awkward silence.

“Thank you,” he said. “That’s not an easy thing to say. Or easy things to admit—especially not to the guy who killed your parents and then tried to kill you.”

Tony scoffed in agreement, his posture relaxing ever so slightly. And though he was not sure what was going to happen next, he felt peace with what he said, and he felt lighter as a result.

“We don’t do this enough,” Bucky said. “Men, I mean. Well, us too, I guess. But men—we’re taught not to talk about things. I’ve always had a problem with that, but Steve is the only guy I’ve ever managed to have those conversations with. It takes a lot to do this, especially because society tells us we aren’t supposed to. Thank you, Tony. I forgive you—for all of it. I’m not mad.”

The tension visibly melted away from Tony’s body and he smiled. Up until this point the worst case scenarios had been reeling in his mind but he was pleasantly surprised for it to be going so well. Tony was not a stranger to difficult conversations, but having one with Bucky had felt dangerous and like he was treading on thin ice. But now Barnes sat across from him smiling warmly, forgiving his sins, and setting the tone for a better future between the two of them.

“Thanks,” he replied lamely. “Are you liking the book?”

Bucky burst out into laughter. “No, this book is total shit. It is the most boring thing I have ever read.”

Tony gasped and clutched his hands over his heart. “Barnes—say it ain’t so. I expected you to have better taste than that!”

“Yeah, no man, I’ll leave this dwarf and elf bullshit to you and Stevie. But to be fair, I’m not even sure he would like it if you hadn’t been the one who recommended it to him,” Bucky teased. This made Tony preen again—he leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, giving Barnes a curious look. He would spend time later sorting out why he cared so much about what Steve said about him behind his back.

“Whatever do you mean?” Tony inquired, his voice sing song.

A devilish smirk spread across Bucky’s face. He was fully aware of what he was doing. Truth be told he had been plotting with Nat about all the ways they could organically help Steve and Tony recognize how much they cared about each other. They had agreed that they could not force it into conversation, because the goal was not to push them before they were ready. However, he was not able to resist now—Tony had come to him after all and Tony was the one who brought up Steve and his own jealousy issues. This was too easy.

“You’re kidding me right?” Bucky chuckled, but when Tony looked clueless he continued. “Ohhh, you really don’t know, do you? Steve thinks the world of you.”

“He does?”

“You’re an idiot, Stark. Yes, of course he does. You helped him navigate the 21st century. You gave him a home. You’re the main reason why he knows how to function in this century. Despite whatever lies you’ve let take root in that head of yours, Steve cares about you. A lot. Sometimes it is excruciating how much he won’t shut up about you,” Bucky groaned.

“What does he say?” Tony asked, leaning even more into Bucky’s words.

_Hook. Line. And sinker_ , Bucky thought smugly.

“God—Tony’s favorite movie is this, Tony showed me that, did you know Tony’s new project is this,” Bucky imitated, his voice going up several octaves. “I know more about you than I’ve ever wanted to.”

  
Tony stared at Bucky—mouth hanging open in awe and cheeks burning red. His brain was repeating what he had just heard over and over and over again. He was not a stranger to men and women fawning over him. And even though his ego was usually just an act, he knew that people tended to feel a draw towards him. But for some strange reason he never expected that to happen to Steve. In the best moments of their friendship, Tony had just assumed they were drawn together because of shared experiences—living the life of an Avenger was not something many people could relate to. But this new information, Bucky saying that Steve eagerly talked about him when he wasn’t around—and to his best friend of all people—had him euphoric. And a little baffled, if he was being honest.

“I have to go,” he said, standing up abruptly.

“You okay?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah—I just…have to go,” he sputtered.

Immediately, Tony retreated to his workshop—his ultimate place of solace and comfort. Whenever he needed to figure something out he took refuge there. He started to work on updates to his suit in hopes of distracting himself from the implications of what Bucky said. Tony was an expert at avoiding his emotions and his primary tactic was burying himself in work, but his thoughts kept nagging at him this time. Eventually he gave up trying to work, sitting at his bench with blue holographic renderings all around him, staring blankly beyond them.

A memory he had desperately tried to forget bubbled to the surface—it was just a few months after the battle of New York and the Chitauri invasion. The Avengers had all been officially living in the Tower for a few weeks and it was chaos.

_Tony threw himself onto the bed next to Pepper, making a dramatic show of how distressed he was until she put her book down to pay attention to him. She sighed heavily, already knowing what this was going to be about, but resigned to asking anyway._

_“Tony, what’s wrong?”_

_“These goddamn Avengers are going to be the death of me!” he yelled, sitting up and turning to face her. They had been having this conversation nightly whenever Tony retreated back to his penthouse after a long day of meetings with his new team. Pepper was exhausted by how often they went in circles about this—especially about Captain America—and how the team was struggling to coalesce and work together peacefully._

_“What happened today?” she prompted._

_“What do you think?” he snapped. “It’s that fucking Star Spangled Asshole who thinks that just because he was a war hero 70 years ago that means he gets to dictate everything I do now!”_

_“Is that what you were preoccupied with all night?” she asked._

_“Of course! Rogers and I got into it over what our standard battle protocol should be—he just couldn’t let it go. He has this obsession with always being right and in control,” Tony ranted. “He went on and on for so long the rest of the team eventually left. We went around for circles alone for five hours!”_

_“Yes, it certainly sounds like he is the only one with an obsession for control and being right,” Pepper commented. She gave him a flat look. “You forgot tonight was date night, didn’t you?”_

_A horrified expression crept across Tony’s face and he deflated. “Pep, I’m so sorry.”_

_“Tony, this is the sixth date night you’ve missed because you’d rather spend your time arguing with Captain America,” she said, her voice starting to stress._

_“Pep—I know, I’m so sorry,” Tony whined. “I really am—I just lose track of time whenever I’m in a damned room with him. We start going around in circles and I forget what day it is we get so deep into it.”_

_Pepper clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white, but kept a level expression. When she spoke, her voice shook a bit, “Tony, it is becoming abundantly clear that Captain America is a higher priority than me.”_

_He started to protest, but she kept going. “I mean it, Tony. You’d rather argue with Steve than go on a date with me. And I really think that speaks volumes about what matters more to you.”_

_“Pepper—you know that isn’t true,” he whispered._

_“Do I? Look, I know the Avengers are important to you and this is something new in your life. And I don’t mind it taking up some of your time, but its taking up so much of it there’s nothing left for me. Tony—you haven’t kissed me in a week,” she explained. “I know you and the other Avengers need each other because you’re the only ones who understand what you’ve been through, but I need you too, Tony.”_

_“I had no idea.”_

_“That’s the problem, Tony,” she said, getting up off of the bed and walking over to a suitcase she had stashed in the corner of the room. Pepper slipped on some shoes while Tony stared helplessly in confusion. “I’m going to spend some time on another floor for a while, so you can figure this out.”_

_“Figure what out?” Tony asked, thrown off by the turn of events and so worn down by the events of his day that he was frozen._

_“Whether you’d rather spend your nights with me. Or Steve Rogers.”_

That had been the first time he and Pepper argued about the space Steve started to take up in his life. Truthfully, from there the fights they had about it had only gotten worse. This was due to the fact that he and Steve slowly started to develop a friendship—yes, they still argued more than any of the other team members—but they bonded, too. The next time Pepper had brought the topic up they screamed and Tony ended up sleeping on the couch in his workshop. He had been too naïve back then to recognize it, but now he was acutely aware that most monogamous heterosexual couples did not argue about the significance of one of the men’s same sex friends in his life. Granted, he was bisexual, but that had never been a topic he and Pepper explicitly discussed. Regardless, she had been jealous of Steve and as Tony sat in his workshop now, he could hardly blame her for having those feelings back then.

Tony experienced his first sexually explicit dream of Steve shortly after they took Loki down together in Germany. And they never really stopped after that but their frequency varied on the status of his relationship with Pepper. He had thought they were gone for good for a while there, when things were really good with him and Pep, but then she said they needed a break. During the entire Accords debacle Steve filled his dreams nightly. Denial was a skill Tony was proficient in and he had chalked up Captain America’s appearances in his dreamland bedroom as a Freudian method of dealing with their conflicts.

But now, a decade after meeting Steve Rogers for the first time, Tony saw his denial evaporating before his eyes. His marriage with Pepper was over and it was as amicable as it could be. They had committed to co-parenting together and their friendship was miraculously intact. He was freshly single, for the first time in years, and he had even felt guilt about sleeping with Ty. Though, when thinking really hard about it, the only place he could trace his guilt to was the devastated look on Steve’s face when he had seen him the morning after.

He buried his face in his hands—unable to escape the things that Bucky’s words had stirred inside of him. Hearing the way Steve spoke about him when he was not around fueled a fire that had been burning bright in his chest for a long time now.

 

 

~

 

“When in doubt, go to dinner with Rhodey, that’s what I always say,” Tony sang, slinging his arm around his best friend as they walked into their favorite restaurant.

“Yeah Tones, that’s something I’ve totally heard you say before,” Rhodey chastised as they sat down in a booth tucked away in a corner. Tony had called ahead and reserved a space that was not blatantly in public view. The Avengers had all thought it was impossible for their ‘fame’ to grow, but after the world caught wind on how they pulled off the Time Heist, their popularity exploded tenfold. Now going out in public required skill and planning ahead—for all of them, not just the famous Captain America and Tony Stark.

“So what are you sucking up for?” Rhodey asked, suspicious. “You usually take me out to eat when you want something.”

“Aw, Rhodey, that’s not fair,” Tony whined. “I totally take you to nice places just for fun.”

“Mhmmm,” Rhodey hummed while taking a sip of his water. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

Tony scoffed but he was also fidgeting with the silverware on the table. Rhodey calling him out so blatantly had made him anxious—he was not ready to cut to the chase just yet. But now he had no choice, his best friend sitting across from him, with that ‘take no bullshit’ look on his face. Tony loved Rhodey—more than he loved a lot of people—but he wished he let him warm up a little bit more. But that was just how Rhodey was—there was never time for nonsense, no beating around the bush—which was probably better, because if Tony were left to his own devices, he could take hours working up the courage to talk about things.

“Alright fine—you’re no fun,” Tony replied, as the waiter walked away after taking their orders. “You never let me just relax. You always make me spill my guts right away.”

“Because I know if I don’t push you, we’ll be here for six hours, and while I love spending time with you Tones,” and at that Tony made a face. “No—really, I do. But after decades of friendship the cat and mouse game is pretty old.”

Tony pouted, sticking his bottom lip out and crossing his arms over his chest. Suddenly, he felt like a teenager getting into MIT two years early and having Rhodey stick up for him again. Eventually, he relented.

“Okay, okay. I’ll confess, I’ve brought you here because I have something on my mind. Well, I’ve had something on my mind for a long time. Years, even. Sometimes it’s been just an occasional thought in the background…and then other times, it is right at the forefront, screaming for my constant attention,” Tony explained.

“Okay,” Rhodey said, patiently listening to each word. That was always the best part about Rhodey, Tony thought, how well he listened even though he feigned impatience. When it actually came down to it, Rhodey was the best listener. He was attentive, patient, and compassionate.

At this point Tony was fidgeting so much he clumsily dropped his silverware on the floor. It hit the restaurant’s tile with a loud clang and he hastily clambered to pick it back up. When he finally sat back in his seat, cheeks flaming red, Rhodey had lost his placid face by dissolving into a fit of laughter. Tony started to pout again, only pretending to be frustrated that the conversation was now disastrously off track. Finally, Rhodey’s snickers subsided.

“Are you happy with yourself?” Tony tittered.

“Very, thank you,” Rhodey teased. “You were saying?”

“Yes, as I was saying,” Tony continued, picking up where he left off and doing his damnedest to act like nothing had happened. “I’ve been experiencing attraction to a certain individual who…is probably, likely, off-limits.”

Rhodey sat there, staring at Tony evenly, giving his words considerable thought. Something in his eyes told Tony he knew—or had an inkling. He secretly hoped Rhodey would play coy. Maybe for once he would not call Tony out on his shit. Tony was not certain he was capable of stating it explicitly. If Rhodey asked—would the name leave his lips? It was only earlier today that Tony had decided his attraction may mean a little more than thinking Steve had a nice ass—that there might be legitimate feelings attached. This was a fresh idea. One that Tony had yet to explore every aspect of and one that felt scary. Saying Steve’s name out loud—admitting that it was him—it made it real. Tangible. More than just a thought that Tony could bury away if need be. It let someone else in on the secret—which also made it more likely the information could slip out.

“So, you’ve finally started to come around on your crush on Rogers, huh?” Rhodey said, breaking the silence and doing exactly what Tony hoped he wouldn’t.

And yet, hearing it said like that sent a waves of excitement and relief down his spine. The anxiety would probably come later—but for now it was nice. It was thrilling to make it a little bit real. Suddenly, the possibilities started bubbling up in Tony’s chest and he couldn’t hide the small smile that grew.

“Yeah—yeah, you could say that,” Tony admitted. “Hey—wait a minute, you’ve got to tell me. How the hell do you know?”

“No offense Tones, but you can’t hide anything from me. I’ve watched you hook up with everyone who would give verbal consent all throughout college and beyond. I’ve been at your side through countless relationships, both good and bad. But there have only been three people you have ever had a major crush on but refused to act on it, because for some goddamn reason you’d rather pine after them like an idiot,” Rhodey revealed.

He held up his hand, lifting a finger as he listed each name. “Rumiko. Pepper. And Steve Rogers.”

“Well damn it Rhodey, how could you know when I just figured this out this morning?”

“Because for a majority of the time you’ve known Steve, you’ve been in a relationship with Pepper. And you wouldn’t dare cheat on her. So, you’ve assumed your crush was just your usual flirtatious behavior,” Rhodey explained. “Which is entirely fair and plausible. But as a recent divorcee, your options are open again and you can’t play dumb anymore.”

As he listened to Rhodey’s explanation he couldn’t deny the accuracy of it all. He supposed Rhodey was his best friend for a reason—their deep understanding of one another had led to a bond forged in compassion and loyalty. Throughout the years, even when he had no one he had Rhodey. He was lucky to have Rhodey at his side during his happiest moments and holding him through his worst. One memory in particular was nagging at the peripheral of his mind now.

_Tony stumbled into his room back at the Avengers Compound. As soon as the door closed behind him, the Iron Man armor began falling off of his body piece by piece. Each section was badly damaged—dented, scraped, falling apart—and he had barely even made it back in one piece. He dropped Steve’s shield on the ground as the last bit of armor fell away._

_“Rough day?” Rhodey’s voice broke him out of his thoughts, startling him enough to make him jump. Tony looked up from his fixed gaze on Steve’s shield—Rhodey was sitting calmly on Tony’s bed. He had been waiting for him. Tony noted that he was wearing the bottom half of his War Machine suit—likely using it as a mechanism for mobility after Vision’s blast. He was grateful that the Stark Industries team had tried to find a solution in his absence._

_“Rhodey,” Tony croaked. He knew his face was battered and bruised—he could tell from the devastated look Rhodey was giving him. “Yeah, think Team Mom and Dad are getting a divorce. Glad to see I get to keep one kid,” he joked._

_“Come on Tony, let’s get you cleaned up,” Rhodey suggested. He stood up and guided Tony into the bathroom, forcing him to sit down on the toilet while he got a washcloth and a bottle of alcohol from the cabinet. Carefully, Rhodey used the wet washcloth to clean away the dirt and dried blood from his face._

_“Fuck—that stings,” Tony winced when he felt the alcohol’s cleansing burn seep into the cuts. “Stop it.” He shoved his friend’s hands away._

_“What happened, Tones? After the airport, what went down?” His voice was soft, as if he could see the heartbreak in Tony’s body._

_“I went after Rogers and Barnes. Zemo framed Barnes for the attack. I followed them to Siberia—Zemo was there. And I found out…there I found out…Barnes…he…,” Tony was stuttering, choking on his own words, as tears poured down his cheeks. “He killed my parents. He caused their car crash. And…when I found out…Steve—he—he knew. He kept it from me—he lied. He—he picked Barnes—that monster, that machine—he picked him—and—“_

_“Oh, Tones,” Rhodey whispered._

  
_“The last thing I saw—after,” Tony hiccupped, his breath was gone and his cheeks were wet. “After he slammed his shield in my fucking chest—was—was him walking away with Barnes.”_

_Rhodey stepped closer and Tony leaned forward while staying seated, resting his head on his friend’s stomach. He wrapped his arms around Tony’s shoulders while he sobbed into his body. In all of his years being at Tony’s side, he had never seen him come unglued quite like this. This was something different—something Tony had never given voice to, and by the looks of it, never would now. He held him tighter, hoping that his grip could squeeze some sense of security and love back into him—that maybe, if he held on long enough while Tony cried some of his love would flow into his friend. It hurt—it was brutally painful—hearing him come apart at the seams like this._

_They stayed like that for what felt like hours—long after Tony’s tears ran out and his voice was hoarse. They stayed until finally his body quit shaking._

“Yeah alright, that is a fair assessment,” Tony drawled, coming back to the present moment. “I seem to remember a drunk night or two where I waxed poetic about his beautiful ass, so I’m aware I’m anything but subtle when I’m around you.”

Rhodey burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Oh my god—I wasn’t even thinking about those times. God Tones—you’re hopeless. Helpless. I can’t believe it.”

“Okay,” Tony grimaced. “Alright, okay—enough of that. I’m trying to have a serious conversation, believe it or not.”

“Yup,” Rhodey chuckled, calming down and focusing back in on Tony. “I’m all ears, man.”

“Now that we have gotten the, apparently entirely unsurprising, revelation about my feelings for a certain American Captain out of the way,” Tony sucked in a deep breath. “What do I do?”

“Uh, you’re serious?”

“Huh?”

“Tony Stark, the man that once the press got ahold of his recent divorce, skyrocketed back onto every publication and new channels’ ‘most eligible bachelor’ list—is asking for dating advice?” Rhodey guffawed. “Man I can’t even count how many people you’ve dated.”

“Fair point, but,” Tony sighed. “Rhodey, you know this is different. What? It is. It is. Because we’re the Avengers—we’re on a team—we have a…complicated history. And that’s putting it lightly. And—well, Cap isn’t exactly from this decade, even. He didn’t grow up—I mean—I know he isn’t homophobic, he isn’t capable of that kind of thing. But—I’m pretty sure he’s straight. Like, ninety percent sure, anyway. He’s only ever brought women around—and by that I mean Sharon anyway, because it took years for him to even get over Peggy—and.”  
“You’re supposed to be a genius,” Rhodey interrupted.

“Ouch.”

  
“Look—Tones, I barely talk to the guy. But I’ve seen the way Steve looks at you whenever you’re not looking at him. And while I think you need to take things slow—hello, recent divorcee—I also think that if you just…trust your instincts around him, you’ll be pretty happy with the results.”

“Oh god, Rhodey, instincts? Any time I am around Captain Handsome all of my past flirting and dating experience just evaporates—don’t give me that look, you know that’s his contact name in my phone. God—okay, you’re right. Yeah, sure. Instincts.”

“It’s gonna be okay, Tones. Just—one day at a time, okay?” Rhodey reached out and patted his friend’s hand. “One day at a time. You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“Yeah—okay. Yeah,” Tony smiled, briefly squeezing Rhodey’s hand to make it clear he understood. “Thank you, Sweetiepie. I don’t know what I would do without you—really, you’re the love of my life.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know. And if you meant it, you’d be working on upgrades to my suit instead of Nat’s equipment.”

“Noted.”

 

 

~

 

Approximately a week later, Tony decided to trust his instincts while simultaneously terrified of rejection.

Morgan was over for the weekend and Peter had dropped by to see her and Tony, too. The three of them were wreaking havoc outside in the play area Tony had built for her—complete with a swing set, slide, and plenty of room to run around.

“Daddy—Daddy!” Morgan squealed, running over to Tony and folding up in his arms as Peter chased her. “I have a question.”

Tony looked down at her, completely mystified by how this tiny and brilliant little human was his daughter. He smiled. “Yes?”

“Is Petey my big brother?” she asked, eyes wide and curious.

“Of course I am!” Peter exclaimed, stealing her out of Tony’s arms and spinning her around as she giggled uncontrollably. Tony was certain his heart was going to explode from the warmth and cuteness of it all.

Peter and Morgan were the embodiment of everything on this living planet that mattered to him. There was no limit to what he would do to ensure their safety—to make them happy—and to see that their dreams came true. They each held special places in his heart. They were what got him up in the morning. They were his inspiration, his motivation, and everything in between. A few years ago, Tony lived in a world where he never thought the two of them would meet. He had lost Peter on some horrific desolate planet millions of miles away and it had broken something crucial inside of him. He had never known a failure like that before, a pain like that—nothing compared. His first words back on earth had been about losing Peter. And Peter had been the reason he ever figured out time travel—why he ever bothered with the ridiculous Time Heist Lang proposed—it had always been Peter.

The way he loved Peter had not been something he ever imagined for himself—truth be told, he had never wanted kids when imaging what his life would look like. He did not want to become his father—god, he didn’t—and he decided kids probably didn’t fit in with his lifestyle anyway. And then he found Peter, and he never expected to love him so deeply, but he did. And then Pepper got pregnant—they had not even been trying—but it felt right at the time. And Morgan was born and Tony could never imagine a life without her after.

He sat there on the grass, watching Peter twirl and spin Morgan around, the air filled with their laughter and he felt whole. For the first time in years, he felt whole, genuinely happy, and a renewed sense of purpose blossomed in his chest. The emptiness that had been weighing him down for months slid away. Suddenly, he felt peace. Tony had always supposed that these moments of revelation—when one truly let something go, a grudge or a burden they’d decided to carry—would be momentous, earth shattering—but instead, it came slowly and softly, here in the grass while he watched his daughter play with Peter.

When he finally looked away to observe the rest of his surroundings, he caught a glimpse of Steve walking up one of the many compound paths back up to the front door. It left his mouth before he could even think about it,

“Steve!” he shouted. There was no time to panic or figure out why he had bothered calling the other man over, because Steve was at his side in a second.

“Yeah, Tony?” he asked, not even slightly out of breath from sprinting over. God—Tony really envied that serum sometimes.

“Take a seat, Captain,” Tony said, patting the empty grass next to him.

Steve promptly dropped down to sit next to him, flashing Tony a smile before looking over at Peter and Morgan racing around. Tony’s heart was pounding loudly in his ears. He was certain that his crush was painfully obvious, especially now with Steve sitting so close that their knees were touching, and that Steve would notice any second and run away.

“They’ve got endless energy, huh?” Steve asked, nodding towards the kids.

“God—yeah. Could probably outlast you and your serum,” Tony laughed. “Peter thinks I invite him over because I like him—jokes on him, I’m using him to tire Morgan out.”

“Ohhh Tony, that’s evil. Genius, but evil,” Steve chuckled. And before Tony could reply, Morgan came running over and lept into Steve’s arm with the biggest smile on her face.

“Uncle Steve!” she giggled. “Guess what?”

She stared at him with big, brown eyes, looking like young Bambi—full of innocence and energy. Steve’s smile grew as he looked down at her. “What?”

“Petey said there’s a meteor shower tonight! And that if we went up on that hill over there,” she stuck out a tiny finger to point at the top of the walking trail to their left. “We could see it really nice!”

“Well, I guess that means when it gets dark soon, we’ll have to go up there to watch, doesn’t it? Right, Tony?” Steve looked over at him with a smirk on his face, and Tony knew the bastard was aware it would be Morgan’s bedtime soon and that he was making promises to earn her favor. Little did Steve know he did not have to do a damn thing to make Morgan love him—he was, quite literally, her hero. She slept with a Captain America plush toy, for god’s sake. And Tony considering protesting, reminding them of Morgan’s bedtime, but then he saw her big, curious eyes and he was a goner. Pepper would yell at him later, but how could he resist watching a meteor shower with his daughter, Peter, and Steve? God help him.

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied, scowling at Steve when Morgan leapt out of his arms to go tell Peter the good news. Steve burst into roaring laughter when he saw Tony’s face.

“Come on Tony,” he laughed. “It’s not like there’s a meteor shower every night.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re lucky you’re pretty and that my daughter idolizes you or else you’d be in trouble,” Tony teased, bumping Steve’s arm with his elbow.

Steve nudged him back. “I have managed to get away with many evil schemes thanks to my charming good looks.”

“Evil schemes, huh? I can’t imagine you…scheming,” Tony replied, raising his eyebrows suggestively. Steve’s cheeks went pink.

“There’s a lot of things about me that would surprise you, Tony,” was his mysterious reply. And with that he stood and walked over to Peter and Morgan. He swooped her up in his arms and spun her around before looking back at Tony, who was gaping after him and dumbfounded. “Come on Stark, the meteors won’t wait for us.”

Tony struggled to regain his composure, but he managed to stand up and give Steve a salute. “Lead the way, Captain.”

Steve led the way to the top of the hill, Morgan sitting on his shoulders and chattering away. She was asking Steve hundreds of questions about what it was like being Captain America, the Avengers, and every in between. Tony slung an arm around Peter’s shoulders and kept him close as they walked up the path. This was never how Tony imagined his evening going, but now that is was happening he couldn’t think of a better way to end the day.

“You look really happy,” Peter said, breaking through Tony’s thoughts. “Not—not that you have looked really miserable or anything lately. But you look really, genuinely happy right now. And that makes me happy.”

Tony squeezed him. God, if only this kid knew just how important he was. “I am happy. You make me really happy, Peter.”

The sentiment had Peter glowing—an uncontrollably large smile spread across his face. “Uh—thanks Tony. Thank you. That really means a lot, you know? You—you mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah well, you mean a lot to me too, kid,” Tony replied. He squeezed Peter’s shoulders again before playfully shoving him away. “You’re the best babysitter I could ever ask for.”

“I knew it!” Peter said, playful and accusing. “You’ve been using me for my awesome Morgan entertainment abilities!”

“No shit, Sherlock! You think I have that kind of energy?” and the two of them dissolved into chaotic laughter, quickly earning the attention of Steve and Morgan when they reached the top of the hill.

“Daddy, you said shit again,” Morgan scolded.

“Yeah Tony, watch your language,” Steve jumped in, smirking.

“Morgan—you know mom invented that word. Not me. I’m just using her word,” Tony said, hands up in the air while feigning innocence. “And Cap—you can take your 1940s values and shove them up your—“  


“Language!” Steve shouted and Tony doubled over in a fit of laughter.

When Tony finally regained a semblance of composure they sat down on the ground, getting ready for the meteor shower that Peter said was meant to be visible in the next five minutes or so. Morgan climbed into Steve’s lap, leaning back against his broad chest, and stared up at the night sky expectantly. At Tony’s other side, Peter laid back in the grass and started kicking Tony’s calves every so often to be a nuisance. When the bright fiery spheres started to fall across the night sky, Morgan’s mouth fell open and she made all sorts of impressed noises. It made Tony giggle, seeing her awestruck and wide eyed. Steve looked over at him and smiled—Tony’s heart stopped for the few seconds that he and Steve held each other’s gaze. In that moment it felt like everything else faded away and all that existed were Steve’s bright blue eyes under the black sky. He knew he was a total goner at this point—he was helplessly lost in his feelings for Steve—and there was no recovering from it now. Rhodey’s encouragement had broken down whatever barrier was previously stopping him from feeling the full force and intensity of it before. Now he felt the entirety of it—and it was almost too much. His breath got caught in his chest and he forgot how to function, until Steve looked away and back at the meteors, and then Tony gasped for air. God—was he in love with Steve Rogers?

Peter’s snickering took him out of the moment.

“I know your secret,” he sang, kicking at Tony’s legs again.

“Kid, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Tony grumbled.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tiberius Stone unleashes a nefarious attack on Tony that leaves him reeling and Steve with a strong sense of duty to do something about it. And after Tony and Steve share an intensely intimate moment, both individually panic about the implications of what could happen next.

Tony was not new to world-shattering and life ruining events happening out of nowhere. His life had been in the spotlight since childhood—a genius father tends to do that—and then his own genius (and debauchery) kept his name in the headlines. And announcing his identity as Iron Man increased the attention tenfold.

All of that to say—reporters uncovering less than ideal news stories about his life was routine by this point. However, for the last seven years he had led a relatively tame life and stories with his name in them were generally positive. The last clickbait tagline he could remember about his life had to do with his marriage to Pepper ending—but all the information inside was speculation. Married life and having a child had calmed down his antics, thus leaving him out of most news cycles.

Thankfully, everyone in his life had worked extremely hard to keep his AA meetings and divorce away from reporters as much as humanly possible. There was still a brief attempt here and there, but none of them ever stuck.

Despite the recent quiet, it came as no shock to Tony when the following headline was plastered across every platform possible: **RECENTLY DIVORCED BACHELOR AND ALCOHOLIC TONY STARK SEEN IN BED WITH MYSTERY MAN.** The photo that accompanied the story was of Tony in bed, clearly naked under the covers, with bottles of alcohol on the nightstand in the background.

Tony was sitting alone in the living room, mid-afternoon on a Tuesday, passively watching the local news when the story broke. It flashed across the television screen and simultaneously his phone’s notifications blew up—both from tags on social media and texts from concerned parties.

**Hey bud, you going to be okay?  
Happy**

**Mr. Stark—what’s going on?  
The Kid**

**Don’t worry Tony, I’m taking care of it.  
Pepper **

Steve, Nat, and Rhodey rushed in right as Tony threw his phone across the living room. It smacked against the wall and landed to the floor with a thud.

“It is a Stark Industries phone—it won’t break,” he growled, refusing to look their direction.

“Tones,” Rhodey began. “What happened?”

  
“Ty must have leaked the story. He must have taken a photo when I was passed out for blackmail,” he replied. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. I mean, hell, he runs a media conglomerate. He has probably orchestrated this whole thing.”

“Fuck,” Nat snarled. “What are we going to do?”

  
“Nothing!” Tony yelled, finally looking their direction. The panic was crawling up his spine and reaching out to latch onto his lungs. His breath was shallow, but Tony was determined to hide his anxiety from everyone. Something like this should not get to him—he should be above media scandals by now—and yet he was suffocating. More than ever before there were people whose opinions mattered to Tony now—Morgan, Peter—and now, upon the possibility of a blossoming romance with Steve—him, too.

“Tony, are you going to be okay?” Steve asked, voice level and soft.

The gentleness in Steve’s sparkling blue eyes nearly made Tony sob on the spot. Kindness is precisely what Tony needed in this moment and yet it was too much for him to handle. He stood, abruptly hurrying towards the hallway.

“Just, everyone, back off!” he shouted, disappearing into the elevator that led to his workshop.

“Well, he’s clearly not okay,” Rhodey sighed.

“Yeah, thanks Rhodey, but Steve is supposed to be Captain Obvious,” Nat groaned, hiding her face in her hands as Steve looked affronted. “What can we do?”

“Knowing Pepper, she’s probably already on it,” Rhodey said. “But I’ll text her just in case—yup she’s on it.”

“I’m not really worried about the news story,” she replied. “I’m worried about how Tony is going to handle this. He was unusually shaken up about it.”

Steve, the man who had a plan for everything, was stuck staring at Tony’s phone on the floor across the room. He was lost in thought, too deep in his own scheming to delegate what the other two should be doing right now. Nat could see his wheels turning, but left him to it for fear of interrupting a genius plan being created.

In reality, the second Tony had said Ty’s name Steve knew what he was going to do—what he had to do. The only thing holding him back from charging ahead with his plan was the consideration of if he should go to Tony in this moment. But the longer he thought about it, the more he knew Tony would not be receptive to conversation so soon. He will have blacked out the windows to his workshop and ordered Friday to keep everyone out at all costs. It would be a losing battle.

So, it was decided then.

“I’ll be back,” Steve said, walking over to the door and grabbing his black bomber jacket off the coat rack.

“Where are you going?” Rhodey asked.

“I’ll be back,” was all he said before walking out the door.

“That’s not gonna be good.” Rhodey grimaced and turned to Natasha who, alternatively, looked delighted.

“Oh, on the contrary, it is going to be fantastic.”

 

~

 

Steve rode his vintage Harley-Davidson Street 750 that Tony had gifted him back in 2012 all the way into the city. He hoped the ride would calm him down, but instead it only gave him more time to ruminate on what had been done to Tony. The longer he thought about how vile a person would have to be to blackmail someone—someone you claimed to love, that had been your friend for decades—simply because they would not continue to sleep with you—Steve could not fathom the thinking behind that decision. And on top of that, Ty knew what Tony had been going through—he knew about the alcoholism, going to AA, the divorce—and he still made the choice to kick him while he was down. By the time Steve reached the city his blood was boiling with a righteous fury.

Tony was a kind man, a generous friend, and a hero that used every ounce of who he was to make the world a better place. Steve had witnessed Tony in some of his worst moments—they had gone toe-to-toe and nearly killed one another—and he could still say with confidence that there was not a better person in the universe. Tony Stark was Earth’s best defender—whose altruism rivaled Steve’s own—and the last thing he deserved was this horrific news story to drag him back down into the pits of depression.

Tiberius Stone was going to pay for this mistake.

He found the Stone Media building with ease—it was only a few gigantic skyscrapers down from the Avengers Tower. The name was plastered in large cursive letters on the side. He remembered a story Tony told him ages ago about how he bought Ty the building for his burgeoning media company. Ty had been cut out of his family’s inheritance and Tony, being the overly generous friend he was, went and bought him all ninety floors on a whim.

He parked right in front of the building, not bothering to put anything in the meter—he was not going to be long.  
Steve took the lobby elevator straight up to the top floor—he knew Tiberius was a full-tail diva like Tony, an office on the top floor was the only thing that would suffice. When he reached the floor, his suspicions were confirmed by a secretary parked right out in front two massive wooden doors that said “TIBERIUS STONE” in golden letters. The woman looked up, and the expression on her face let Steve know she recognized him, but that was not going to stop him.

“Sir—uh, Captain America—sorry, is that it?” she asked, fumbling on how to address him and stop him from barging through the doors.

“Is he in?” Steve asked, politely, saving his venom for Tiberius.

“Yes, but he’s on a conference call and asked not to be disturbed—“

Steve walked around her desk and stormed right into the office without another second of hesitation.

On the other side of the doors was a lavish office, complete with pretentious art décor, bar cart, and couch seating area. But straight ahead was Tiberius Stone himself, feet up on an oak desk, and phone cradled between his ear and shoulder. The instant Steve burst through the doors he hung up the phone call without explanation. Steve could see the fear in his eyes, but that only excited him. At this point he was like a wolf on the hunt—the scent of fear only propelled him forward and closer to catching his prey. The feeling of striking fear in the cold, dead heart of Tiberius Stone was enticing and thrilling.

“S-steve Rogers, well, I’ve got to say—out of all the people I expected to burst into my office today, you were not one of them,” Tiberius lamely joked, sitting up straight in his chair and smoothing out his suit jacket.

“Oh, what? You thought your little game was going to draw Tony in? Bring him here so you could have another chance to seduce him in person?” Steve growled. “Yeah-fucking-right. He said he was done with you—he meant it. “

“Oh come on now, Captain America. Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

“This is the part where you get to shut the fuck up, Stone. What you did is vile—disgusting—something only the most morally depraved people do. You blackmailed a man you claim to love—a man who has saved your ass more times than anyone can count. Someone who has been so generous with you, you could never repay him. And the worst part—this is only a small drop in the bucket of all the abuse you’ve put him through all these years,” Steve snarled. He wasn’t yelling, but he had mastered the art of being menacing without raising his voice.

“And you know what else, Stone? I think you’re jealous—you’re pissed that Tony has grown to be better than you could ever hope to be. Tony’s a million times the person you are and it makes you furious, because you know you can’t drag him down to your level anymore. Tony’s the best goddamn man in this universe and it infuriates you, because you know you’re one of the worst.”

Tiberius looked stunned for a moment, visibly shaking in his chair, but he recovered. His eyes narrowed into a piercing glare but its effect was lost on Steve. “How precious—Stark sent his big puppy guard dog after me. He was too scared to come after me himself, so he had to send his secret lover to go do the job.”

Before Tiberius could react, Steve had crossed the room and his right fist landed smack in the middle of his face. When he pulled his hand back, Tiberius’ nose was pouring blood and he was screaming.

“What the fuck?! You broke my nose!” he screeched.

“You mess with Tony Stark again, I will break more than your nose.”

 

~

 

Several hours had passed since Tony ran out of the living room to his safe hideaway, but he had not gotten anything done in that time. Normally, he would use his anxious energy to work on a project but the panic had been too overwhelming this time. Instead, he had resigned himself to laying on the couch in his workshop and tossing a tennis ball against the wall repeatedly.

He recalled the kindness in Steve’s eyes—the way it had made him panic more than what Tiberius had just done. Why was Steve’s softness, the way it felt like he was going to pull him into a comforting hug—why was that scary?

Regardless, once Tony had seen that expression on Steve’s face he knew he had to run or else he was going to collapse into his big, beautifully muscled arms and that was not something he knew how to face yet.

Tony checked the clock—it was 8P.M.—six hours since he had locked himself away. And just as he was about to dwell on how surprising it was that no one had come to check on him yet, there was a knocking on the door. The blacked out windows prevented him from seeing who was outside, but thankfully Friday chimed in: “Steve is waiting outside, asking to be let in.” Tony’s heartbeat increased significantly at the idea of being alone in a room with Steve, but he had a hard time parsing out if it was giddiness or anxiety. Oh well—he would have to chance it on being the good kind of nervousness.

“Let him in.”

“Thanks Friday,” Steve said, entering the room balancing a tray of food, water, and coffee on one arm and closing the door with his free hand. “Tony?”

“Over here!” Tony raised his hand, still laying on his back comfortably on the couch.

Steve walked over, placing the tray of food on the coffee table in front of the workshop couch, and perched himself on the armrest nearest to Tony’s feet. But Tony decided to be stubborn and dramatic—draping his arm over his eyes and not moving an inch.

“How are you doing?” Steve ventured to ask, fully knowing what he was getting himself into. When Tony let out a long sigh, he had to work to hide his amused smirk.

“It’s been quite the day, you know,” Tony whined. “I’m really distraught.”

“Yes, I can see that,” Steve mused. “And I can venture to guess that you have not moved from this spot all day and therefore, you need to eat.”

Another dramatic sigh.

“I don’t know, Cap. I don’t think I have an appetite. You’ve seen what they’re saying about me on the news.”

“You haven’t checked the news recently, have you?” Steve asked.

“No, of course not. I’m not that much of a masochist.”

“Well, Stone Media has released a retraction and said that it was a photoshopped image sent in by an anonymous source. And Tiberius won’t be bothering you again,” he explained.

Finally, Tony jolted upright, his eyes wide and curious, looking at Steve in confusion. Something in the pit of his stomach rolled when he saw just how gorgeous Steve looked in this moment—black bomber jacket still on, hair a little messy, and that unspeakable softness in his eyes again. It seemed like eternity for Tony to collect his thoughts and actually say anything out loud.

“Wait—what?”

“I paid him a visit. He won’t be bothering you again,” Steve replied, his voice stern this time and a hardness in his eyes that was not there before.

That thing in the pit of Tony’s stomach tightened and the longer he stared at Steve the more aware he became of how this was turning him on. Steve had gone out of his way to confront Tiberius—the bane of Tony’s existence—and did it to protect him. Tony swallowed hard—also realizing that now that he was sitting up there was less space between his body and Steve’s. In fact, only one of them would have to lean a little forward to close the space between them. His heart was beating in his ears and everything in him wanted to feel Steve’s plush lips against his own, but the fear of rejection swiftly settled in and pulled him down. Tony scooted back on the couch a smidgen and reached for the plate of food Steve brought him. He took a bite.

“Thanks Cap, I knew I could count on you to be my knight in shining armor,” he joked. “But you didn’t have to do that. I can clean up my own messes.”

“I know, Tony,” he said, voice intimately quiet. “I wanted to.”

Tony stayed silent, focusing on shoveling the delicious food into his mouth, and afraid of what he might say otherwise. The tone of Steve’s voice alone ignited that desire in him all over. He had to keep his mouth preoccupied or else it might say—or do—something he would regret. The idea of making a move on Steve—seeing the horror on his face—and having to hear about how it ‘wasn’t like that’ or something worse—that was not a risk Tony was willing to take. He was too fragile to have his heart shattered into a million pieces right now.

“Alright Cap—hate to be a bad host, but I’ve got to kick you out,” Tony said, in between gulps of coffee. “I have a project to work on and can’t be afforded any distractions.”

Steve looked wounded, but he stood up and obliged Tony’s request. “Okay, but if you need anything, Tony…anything, I’m here, okay?”

“Sounds good, see ya later!” Tony shouted, pretending to busy himself behind one of his work benches.

 

~

 

The first place Steve thought of when he got out of Tony’s workshop was Bucky’s room. He needed to process the strange energy he had picked up from the other man—and probably process how he handled the Tiberius situation altogether. Bucky always had good advice, whatever the situation was, and he knew when to call Steve out on his bullshit. There was never dancing around topics with his best friend—and that’s what he needed right now.

Without thinking, Steve let himself into Bucky’s room without knocking and he was greeted with his friend having sexual relations with Natasha.

“Steve,” Nat grumbled, not furious but certainly not happy. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”

“God—sorry, I’ll leave,” Steve stumbled, spinning around and closing the door with more force than necessary. He rubbed his eyes until they watered, trying to shove the image to the back of his mind, hidden away somewhere he would not find it.  
“God—come in,” Nat sighed, opening the door, now wrapped in a robe. “I’m leaving. You can have your friend for the night.”

Steve clasped his hands together in a praying form and apologized before walking into the room. Natasha just rolled her eyes before retreating back to her room.

“You’re so lucky she likes you,” Bucky quipped, pulling on a shirt as Steve wandered on in.

“I know,” Steve laughed. “I’m sorry. I was stuck in my head.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why you’re lucky I like you, because if I didn’t, I would still be having sex right now.”

“To be fair, you have a lot of sex,” Steve bargained. “Because you two live together. It’s not like when we were touring and you only got some once a month, if you were lucky—“

“Which I always was,” Bucky replied, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah—anyway—sorry.”

“So, what’s wrong?” Bucky asked. “You said you were stuck in your head.”

Steve paced back and forth for several moments—the anxious energy buzzing throughout his body and preventing him from focusing. Finally, he plopped himself down on the edge of Bucky’s bed and fidgeted with his hands in his lap. When he looked up, Bucky had resorted to leaning against the wall with his arms crossed—patiently waiting.

“So, Natasha probably told you about what happened,” he started.

“Well, even if she didn’t, the rest of the world was screaming about it. I do have an iPhone, Steve. And I actually know how to use mine,” Bucky said. “Go on.”

“Hey—Tony taught me how to use mine, thank you,” Steve shot back. “Speaking of, so. I went and punched Stone in the face—“

“Okay, stop there,” Bucky held his hand up. “You did what?”

“I showed up at his office, yelled at him—he was an ass—so I punched him. And then made his company post a retraction saying the photo was fake. He won’t be bothering Tony anymore, you know? And then I come back and make Tony dinner and go down to see him. He was being silly at first, joking around. And then when I told him—the entire energy shifted.”

“Was it good? Or bad?”

“No—it felt very good. At least, I think so? We were so close to one another, if I had leaned down just a bit we could have kissed. It felt electric, but I think I was reading it incorrectly, because then Tony practically jumped across the couch away from me and started shoving food into his mouth. And then he kicked me out,” Steve rambled, barely breathing between words as it all tumbled out. Bucky smirked—Steve had always been like this about people he got feelings for—giddy and excitable as a teenager.

“That was a lot of information at once, man,” Bucky said. “Way to go for punching Stone—he deserved more than that, but way to go. Next, you’re an idiot.”

“How did I go from getting congratulations to being insulted so fast?”  
“Because you literally did something badass and then something really stupid back-to-back,” Bucky chided, but he was met with a flat look from Steve.

“I’m not following.”

“Well, Stevie, punching Stone and making him fix his own mess it badass. Not making a move on Tony, even though you have had feelings for him since I can remember, is stupid. Actually, it is also stupid that you are questioning whether you were picking up on the signals correctly or not.”

“Buck, I know you think you’re being helpful, but I’m genuinely not catching on here,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Tony has had the hots for you since 2012—and now that he’s single that desire is a raging wildfire, my friend. You were reading the signals correctly, but Tony Stark hates himself and probably convinced himself you are going to reject him. So, he ran away,” Bucky explained. “You shoulda kissed him, man.”

“Aw, Buck, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” he drawled. Steve frowned—how was Bucky missing the mark this badly? Normally he could always rely on Bucky to see something clearly that he was missing. He was the best at filling in the gaps while giving a reality check. Steve frowned up at his friend, displeased that he was so off when he was so desperate for guidance.

“Alright—listen up. My entire life Steve, I have sat back and watched time and time again how you make yourself out to be unworthy of the affection of whoever you’ve got feelings for at the time,” Bucky was pointing a finger in Steve’s face, continuing, “And I’m sick of someone talking about my best friend that way. You think everyone is better than you. You think Tony and his fancy gadgets and futuristic mindset are all too good for you. But you’re wrong, Steve. Sure, you two are different in a lot of ways—you’re something old, he’s something new,” Bucky explained, entirely too pleased with himself for the joke.

“But you don’t even know Tony,” Steve replied.

“Man, he came spilling his guts to me when he apologized to me the other day,” he said. “I know way more than you think. Also, an idiot could notice the way Tony stares at you helplessly whenever you aren’t looking. Well, actually, he does it when you are looking, too.”

Steve considered this for a moment—could he truly be missing a piece of the puzzle that was this big? After a decade of pining after Tony Stark, was there actually a possibility that his feelings were returned? It did not seem likely—he and Tony, even after all this time, were opposites. In many ways they were contradictory to one another—Tony was the futurist and Steve was a relic of the past, even as he had grown to adapt to the modernity of the world he woke up in. At the end of the day, Tony was brilliant, suave, and charming—lightyears out of Steve’s league. All it took was a look at the people Tony had dated long-term—Pepper, especially, who embodies beauty, sophistication, and charm herself—to recognize that Steve did not fit in among them. If someone lined up all of Tony’s lovers and put Steve in the mix, he would drastically stand out.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bucky interrupted Steve’s spiral. “And you’re wrong. So don’t bother. Have you ever considered that because you’re different, that’s why you two would work? That maybe Tony’s habit of dating people too similar to him is why those relationships have not lasted?”

“Thanks Buck,” Steve replied, resigning himself to not arguing further. Even though he was not convinced, he knew it was a futile effort with Bucky. “I appreciate the perspective.”

Bucky looked unimpressed, face flat and arms crossed. It made Steve bristle, knowing that his friend could read him easily and see through his empty words. And it made him disappointed in himself—that he could not see himself in any high esteem the way his friends did. He knew it was a constant point of frustration, for Bucky and Nat specifically, that no compliments or encouragement got through to him. Steve knew he was strong—a great soldier and a capable leader for the Avengers and a good friend. But when it came to romance, dating, his appeal to someone like Tony—Steve found himself lacking any confidence or certainty.

“You’re full of shit and you’re really lucky I like you,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying—try something with Tony. I promise you’ll be surprised. And at the very least, you’ll know instead of wondering forever.”

Steve nodded, looking down at his hands in his lap.

Maybe Bucky had a point.

 

~

 

“Pepper, I’m panicking,” Tony blurted out, cradling his cell phone between his cheek and shoulder. He was multi-tasking, working on a mindless upgrade to Ant-Man’s suit while Pepper had given him an update on the social media scandal. Pepper—brilliant, amazing Pepper—had taken care of any residual public relations issues and cleared the air.

“Tony—what’s wrong? I literally just told you the Tiberius situation was handled, there’s a restraining order saying he cannot come anywhere near you, any Stark or Avengers properties, or Morgan,” Pepper sighed. “I don’t understand.”

“No—no, no, no,” he rambled. “It is not about that. But thank you—thank you for that and handling that. You’re amazing and perfect, like always.”

“Tony, you’re doing that thing where you’re speaking so fast all your words are running together, so I need you to clue me in on what you actually mean, okay?”

Tony finally put the phone down on his work bench, clicking the speaker button, so that he could fidget with both his hands. He moved frantically, not actually getting any work done, but twisting bolts on things that did not need twisting.

“Right—yeah, sorry. I just—Pepper, I feel bad about something, okay? And I’m afraid to even talk about it with you, but you’re the one I need to talk to about it,” Tony whined.

“Hey—Tony, it’s okay,” she said, voice steady and soothing. “I’ve told you, you can always talk to me about anything. We are still friends—I will always be here for you.”

He paused, taking a deep breath and finally going still. This was going to take intentionality and brain power to get these words out. The panic surged through his veins, but Pepper’s soft tone leveled him out a bit. He could do this—he could. What was the worst that could happen? Pepper would be furious, yell maybe? He had endured just that a million times. Yeah—he could do this, he could tell her about his feelings for Steve and how they scared the shit out of him.

“Okay, Pep, okay,” he sucked in another deep breath. “Over the last few weeks, I have realized something. And through that realization, think I have to come to terms with it, and make a decision about how to move forward. But I want to be very cautious about this choice—how to handle this—because of you—Morgan—I mean, I’m just barely a few months into sobriety—so.”

Tony stopped, he had to ground himself before going forward.

_Alright, here goes nothing,_ he thought.

“I’ve come to the realization that I have feelings for Captain America,” he said, sounding entirely displeased and burdened by the whole thing. Tony was about to continue, but Pepper started to chuckle on the other end of the phone.

  
“Well, Tony, you may be the last one on planet earth to come to that conclusion, because I can promise you the rest of us have known for a while,” she retorted but there was not harshness in her voice.

“Excuse me?”

“Tony—you’ve always loved him. Even when you were a child. And how could you not? With the way Howard talked about him, he practically baited you into it. And then he came back—and in 2012 I knew. I’ve known,” she explained.

“Are you upset, Pepper? God—this is fucked up, isn’t it? This is terrible of me,” he whispered.

“Tony—you loved me with every ounce of yourself and gave our relationship everything it could be given. So, no, you do not get to pretend it did not work out because you were secretly in love with Steve Rogers the whole time. It didn’t work out because sometimes things just don’t,” Pepper said, now stern and reassuring. She was not going to budge—she was not going to let Tony spiral into another self-hatred space.

“What do I do?”

The desperation in his voice broke her heart.

“Tony, go for it,” she said, as sure and determined as she ever had been. “You deserve to love and be loved in that way. And I think you’ll be amazed at what happens between you and Steve if you try.”

“You really think so?”

“Tony, I’ve seen how he looks at you when you aren’t looking. I really think so.”

“Pepper—have I ever told you how amazing you are?”

“Yes, but I will never tire of hearing it,” her smirk could be heard through the phone.

“You’re absolutely amazing and I love you so very much,” Tony cooed.

“I love you too, Tony. Now please, finally do something about your feelings for Captain America because, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say this, we are tired of you two helplessly pining after one another.”

“Alright Pep—whatever you say. But when I get rejected and am crying for weeks on end, you’re going to have to clean up your mess.”

“Sure Tony—because I know that will never happen, I’ll agree to do just that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to support me and this fic. We only have a couple more chapters after this and things are going to really start heating up soon! Stay tuned.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas time arrives for the Avengers, so Scott and Sam decide that this year there should be a proper Christmas party. Which means Secret Santa, mistletoe, and other antics.

Despite the mild confidence that Pepper instilled in Tony by the end of their phone conversation, he let several months pass before even considering doing anything about his feelings.

He needed more time.

Well, that was not exactly it—he was overthinking it to the extreme—but his excuse whenever Pepper checked in was that he needed more time. More time being sober. More time between the divorce and actually making a move on Steve.

And when Bucky asked Steve the same questions—why he had not made a move yet—Steve’s answers were the same. Tony needed more time settling into sobriety. Tony needed more time between recently getting divorced and going out on a date with someone new.

So, the months passed by and it was December before they knew it.

One evening in particular, the first Friday of December, Scott and Sam gathered the Avengers together in the living room to announce that this year there would be a Christmas party.

“Okay—listen, I know we don’t usually do big parties because—well, actually, I don’t know why we don’t,” Scott said, frowning. “They’re great. A great idea. And don’t worry—we will do Secret Santa so there’s no pressure to spend money on everyone. Tony—that’s especially a warning for you. Only a present for the one name you draw.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks bug boy,” Tony grumbled.

“We deserve to celebrate each other—and together,” Sam announced, cutting in and breaking up the potential argument brewing between Scott and Tony. “We have never really celebrated the Time Heist and the aftermath of everything good that happened. We’ve earned this for once.”

“You’re not getting any protest from me,” Nat happily announced. When Bucky raised his eyebrows at her skeptically, she said, “What? I love a good Christmas party. What’s not to love? Presents, cookies, spending quality time together.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Steve chimed in.

“Well, we are glad you’ve agreed! Sam and I did our due diligence and already checked in with some other members of the team. Sadly, besides us here in the room, Thor and Bruce are the only two who will be able to make it—everyone else either has plans or off-world duties,” Scott was vibrating with excitement, the human embodiment of a puppy being presented with new toys. “We can’t wait! Tomorrow night—we decorate the Christmas tree we have coming in. Be there or be square!”

And sure enough, the next evening, Thor burst into the living room with a bushy tree 9 feet tall. It was placed in the corner near the large bay window so that its sparking lights could be seen from outside. Sam and Scott followed closely behind Thor, carrying several boxes of decorations—from ornaments to lights to garlands. The group got to work immediately. Bucky served everyone non-alcoholic warm spiced apple cider while Scott, Sam, and Natasha diligently wrapped the tree in shimmering white lights.

Tony, on the other hand, had brought Peter over for this special night of decorating since he would be spending Christmas with May and family. They sat in the corner, a Stark Pad before them, scheming away on something spectacular. No one was paying them any attention until Steve came in.

“What are you two up to?” he asked, trying to steal a glance at what was on the screen but Tony contorted his body away from him to keep it hidden.

“No way, Cap. Go outside and see for yourself,” he teased.

“They’ve started? Aw man—come on Tony, we gotta go look,” Peter exclaimed, leaping to his feet and rushing outside with Steve and Tony close behind.

They were greeted by a dozen Iron Man suits flying through the air hanging strings of lights off of the entire Compound. And another handful were setting up extravagant lawn decorations that included light up reindeer, candy canes, and more. In just a few minutes, the entire outside of the Compound was a Christmas wonderland. Once their duties were complete, Tony tapped a few buttons on his screen and they flew away back to the workshop they came from. When he looked over at Peter and Steve, their mouths were hanging open with eyes wide: awestruck.

“Tony—this is amazing. You didn’t have to do this,” Steve said. “All these decorations must have cost a lot of money. The outside ones aren’t cheap.”

“Don’t you go lecturing me on how I spend my money, Rogers,” Tony laughed. “It was worth it to see the look on the kid’s face.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Steve whispered, captivated by the warm and loving expression Tony was wearing.

Finally, Peter looked over at Steve and Tony with the same goofy, amazed expression on his face. It was clear that the kid had only ever lived in the city and never got to see Christmas decorating to this degree. That had been the point of it all—yes, Tony wanted to surprise the rest of the team and spoil them since Sam and Scott decided to make this such a big deal this year—but it was really all for Peter. The kid had not grown up with much in his life and Tony was determined to spoil and amaze him whenever he could.

 

~

 

“Alright Cap, who did you get?” Tony asked, peering over the man’s broad shoulders after everyone had finished drawing names for Secret Santa and went their separate ways. Steve yanked his paper away from Tony’s view and leaned away, laughing.

“Tony—that’s not how this works.”

“Awww, come on,” Tony pleaded, knowing full well that if Steve asked in return he would never say. But that was mostly due to the fact that somehow the stars aligned and Tony had drawn Steve’s name from the hat. He continued his assault on the larger man, leaning closer and pawing for the scrap of paper in Steve’s hands. Eventually, Tony was practically on top of Steve—who had leaned so far back on the couch he was almost laying down—both of them laughing and wrestling like giddy schoolchildren.

Tony latched onto Steve’s hand that held his paper, but using his super soldier strength to his advantage, Steve yanked it away and held his arm out over his head. However, Tony was not a quitter, no, he was stubborn and highly competitive. He stretched out as far as he could, fully on top of Steve’s body now, making a feeble attempt to grab the paper that was far out of his reach. Finally, when his efforts proved futile, he gave up on reaching the paper only to realize the closeness of his face to Steve’s.

They locked eyes, breathing heavily from their silly antics. Silence stretched out between them for what felt like forever—only the sound of their breathing filled the air. Tony thought he may be crazy, feeling the electricity crackling against every point of contact between their two bodies, but the hazy look in Steve’s eyes hinted that maybe he was feeling it too.

God, Tony hoped he was feeling it too.

And then the sound of Thor’s booming voice getting closer and closer to the living room made Tony spring up and away from Steve so fast it looked like nothing had ever happened. By the time Thor and Sam entered, the only remnant of what had transpired was the flushing on their cheeks.

“Everything alright?” Sam asked, slightly leery about the state of Steve’s hair and the look on the two men’s face.

“You’re walking in on us post-argument,” Tony lied.

“Oh? What were you arguing about?” Sam inquired, making his suspiciousness known.  
“How much a person should spend on a Secret Santa gift,” Tony grumbled. “I say we are allowed to spend whatever we want to.”

“And I said that’s unfair, because not everyone is a millionaire,” Steve retorted, falling perfectly in step with the story Tony was making up.

“Billionaire,” Tony snidely corrected. “And I think that’s stupid because I funnel money into all of your bank accounts anyway.”

“And some of us don’t like using that money because it doesn’t feel right.”

“Oh Cap, you and your 1940s politeness and respectability really are starting to get old at this point,” Tony teased, shooting Steve a sparkling smirk. “If I just hoarded away my money that would be both incredibly boring and selfish.”

“If it makes you feel any better—I totally plan on using the money you put in my bank account,” Sam offered.

“Sam, you’re not helping,” Steve groaned.

 

~

 

That evening Tony found himself vibrating with anxious energy while down in his workshop. He had drawn Steve’s name, because of course the universe wanted to do this to him. These sorts of situations always had a way of happening to him. Now he had to find a way to give Steve the best gift possible—a gift that could communicate all the things he was struggling to express. Gratitude. Affection. Loyalty. Forgiveness. Significance.

Tony was great at giving extravagant gifts—giant bunnies or new cars were his go-to. Or even better, when he had been with Pepper she had gotten accustomed to just purchasing whatever she genuinely wanted with his credit card. But neither of those things would work for this Secret Santa situation. Steve was not the type of man to be wooed by expensive gifts and Tony could not just hand over his credit card—that communicated none of the feelings he was hoping for.

Finally, Tony caved. He picked up his phone and dialed Rhodey.

“Tones—this better be an emergency. You know I’m on a mission right now,” Rhodey groaned.

“Rhodey Bear! I am so happy to hear your voice,” Tony sang. “Why must you sound so snippy? We haven’t talked in weeks. Don’t you miss me?”

Rhodey mumbled something under his breath that Tony didn’t catch.

  
“Tones, what’s up?”

“Okay, so we are doing Secret Santa—“

“You did not interrupt my day to talk to me about buying a present.”

“Listen, Rhodey Bear. I drew Steve’s name,” Tony whined. He picked up a tennis ball and started tossing it against the wall—unable to stay still.

“Oh, so you’re stressing about how to get a gift that perfectly expresses your undying love that you’ve kept to yourself for over ten years?” Rhodey teased. Tony could feel the smug smirk on his face through the phone.

“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m being stupid.”

“Listen Tones, you don’t give yourself enough credit for how thoughtful you actually are when you put effort in. You’ve given me great gifts since I can remember. But when it comes to your romantic interests, you freak out and give up and that’s how Pepper ended up buying most of her own gifts,” Rhodey explained. “You know Steve really well. Just think about it and go with your gut instinct.”

Tony let out a long groan in response.

“Seriously, Tony. I know you can do this. Look, I have to go—“

“Yeah, alright. I get it, snookums, you have lives to save or something like that. Thank you. I’ll do my best,” he replied, hanging up the phone and tossing it on the desk. He went back to bouncing the tennis ball off the wall as he racked his brain for the ideal gift.

~

 

The next two weeks dragged on by as everyone did their best to secretly purchase presents for their Secret Santa. Tony and Steve continued a delicate dance around each other after their intense moment on the couch. For the most part they effectively avoided one another—but when that was not an option, they shared knowing glances and seemed to be physically drawn towards each other. They exchanged soft touches on the arms, shoulders, and always ended up sitting side by side on the couch during Family Time.

Natasha was the one who immediately noticed the difference. However, this time, she decided to keep it to herself and observe from the sidelines. Both Tony and Steve knew they could come to her if they needed to and it was not her job to check in on them every single time something in the air shifted.

She was surprised no one else noticed the significant increase in the touching between the two men. Or, if they did, they were staying alarmingly silent about it. The Avengers team were well known for gossiping among each other. The radio silence about the obvious touchy feely interactions between Steve and Tony must have meant only she had noticed. It was likely everyone had expected this to happen ages ago—because honestly there was a running bet between the Avengers about when, how, and who would initiate between the two—that the new touching felt natural.

Finally, a few hours before the Christmas party was planned to start, she broke.

“Love, we need to talk,” she said. Her and Bucky were in their now shared room getting ready for the party. Scott had insisted that everyone dress nicer than usual to highlight the specialness of the occasion. Bucky had decided on black jeans and a long-sleeved black button-up because he could not be bothered with anything colorful.

“About what?” he asked, pausing from buttoning up his shirt to look intently at her.

“The fact that something has clearly happened between Steve and Tony, but no one has said anything about it,” Natasha sighed.

“Hmmm? What are you talking about?”

“Since two weeks ago, they have started touching each other more. You know—little touches—on the arm, in passing, like a quiet acknowledgment of something unspoken. And if they’re not attached at the hip on the couch, they’re entirely avoiding one another,” she explained. Natasha turned around, her back facing Bucky, the zipper on her off-the-shoulder green velvet dress undone. “Can you zip me up?”

Bucky walked over, gently zipping her up and brushing her flowing red hair over one shoulder. He bent down and kissed the exposed side of her neck and hummed.

“I guess I didn’t notice because I thought they always did that. Do you think they’ve finally come to their senses? I hope not—that would mean Sam won the money pot.”

“No, they most certainly have not come to their senses. But they’re getting there,” she replied, reaching up to hold his head in place against her neck. “I have an idea.”

“Oh, I love your ideas,” he mused, smiling against her skin. “What is it?”

She spun around in his arms, wearing a mischievous grin, and cupped his face in her hands. “There is a 98.7% probability that Steve will walk Tony to his room at the end of the night. Because Steve is a gentleman and cannot help himself—and especially will not be able to help himself after seeing Tony in the red button-up I bought him to wear tonight.”

“Alright—I’m not following,” Bucky frowned.

“The plan is strategically placed mistletoe above Tony’s doorway after he leaves his room to head to the party.”

“You’re dangerously brilliant,” Bucky chuckled, leaning down to kiss her.

 

~

 

The living room was decorated to the nines—glistening lights hanging, a fully ornament clad massive green tree served as the centerpiece to all the festive décor. It smelled like cinnamon and fresh baked pie. Outside it was snowing, as if the weather gods had conspired with Scott and Sam to make this evening as picturesque as possible. The fireplace in the corner was roaring with a real crackling fire—the room managing to be comfortably warm and not too overwhelming.

When Tony walked in, his breath was genuinely taken away. In all his life he had never celebrated Christmas quite like this—with Avengers family, at maximum Christmas cheer. Growing up with Howard and Maria, the holidays were barely celebrated, and usually only because Jarvis went out of his way to make Tony feel special. And all the Christmases celebrated with Pepper, and then Pepper and Morgan, had been lovely but simple and small. But this Christmas felt like the ones seen in the movies—big, beautiful, but full of love.

Tony would be lying if he said he wasn’t absolutely giddy to celebrate this way. He was actually surprised it took him until this late in life to do a showy Christmas—considering his predisposition towards grand gestures and glamour.

“You’ve outdone yourselves,” Tony complimented Sam and Scott, who were eagerly greeting everyone as they entered the room. “I’m impressed.”

“God—I’ve impressed Tony Stark. I can die happy now,” Scott said.

“I’m glad you took my wardrobe suggestion,” Nat said, appearing behind him out of nowhere. Tony jumped slightly and gave her a playful frown. “The black suit with the crimson shirt and black tie—quite literally a perfect look on you.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Romanoff,” Tony gave her a peck on the cheek. “Green velvet has always been perfect on you.”

“I know,” she smirked. “Where’s Prince Charming?”

“No sign of the Captain yet,” Tony sighed. “But we are early.”

“Well, it doesn’t quite make sense to show up fashionably late when you live in the party venue.”

“You make an excellent point, like always, Romanoff.”

Tony wandered away from Nat to absent mindedly stand near the beverage station. He was grateful that alcohol was not on the menu—which it never would be, his team respected his sobriety far too much for that. There was a crockpot for non-alcoholic warm apple cider, a full blown hot chocolate station with every topping imaginable, and an array of sodas. He poured himself a mug of cider. When he took a sip, he silently grieved the absence of whiskey or bourbon but decided that thought was best kept to himself. He got lost in thought and stood there for god knows how long. A hand on the small of his back and a soft, but concerned, voice snapped him out of it.

“Are you okay, Tony?” Steve asked, holding his hand gently against Tony’s back and staring down at him with worried eyes.

But Steve was wearing that damn dark blue shirt that accentuated every line of every muscle on his perfectly toned body. His blue eyes were piercing and they took Tony’s breath away. Tony didn’t realize he hadn’t said anything until Steve’s voice broke through again.

“Tony? You’re staring at me and I’m getting worried.”

“Sorry Cap,” Tony chuckled. “It’s just the damn shirt of yours—looks like your muscles are begging to be let free. Its distracting.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed pink, but he did not pull away or back down. Instead, he continued to look Tony directly in the eyes and his hand pushed more firmly against his lower back. This was, apparently, their new normal—testing the waters, pushing the boundaries back-and-forth. It was a game of chicken as they both tried to see who would back away first or who would give in to the temptation.

“You look good too, Tony,” Steve replied. “Red is your color.”

“Don’t be preposterous, Rogers. Every color is my color,” he teased.

Steve licked his lips.

“You’re not wrong.”

With his heart caught in his throat, Tony stuttered out, “I-I believe there’s a Christmas party we are meant to be partaking in?”

Tony retreated away from Steve and the drink station, wandering over to the living room where everyone else had arrived and gathered. Thor’s booming laughter filled the air as he talked to Bruce. Scott was excitedly telling a story to Nat, Bucky, and Sam in the other corner. And despite his heart still racing from the tension between him and Steve seconds earlier, the sight of his Avengers family together for Christmas made warmth explode through his chest. It had been a very long time since he felt this at peace—this full of genuine joy.

“We should exchange our Secret Santa gifts now,” Nat said, breaking apart the separate conversations happening. “Now that we are all here.”

They all gathered around the Christmas tree next to the couch—Bruce in his special Hulk-sized chair, Thor on the end of the couch, Tony nestled in the corner of the couch, with Nat on his other side, Bucky next to her, then Sam, Scott, and Steve on the other end. Thor clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

“I shall go first!” He reached under the tree and pulled out a large box, handing it to Bruce. “It is for you, my friend!”

Bruce opened the box to find a large Christmas sweater, made big enough to fit him perfectly, that was a beautiful red. He rubbed the fabric between his fingers—it was divinely soft.

“It is made from the finest Asgardian threads,” Thor explained. “I thought you deserved one that was made to fit you.”

“Thank you Thor—that really means a lot,” Bruce said, a few tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. “That’s very thoughtful. I love it.”

Bruce gave his Secret Santa his present next—he had drawn Scott’s name and gotten him a canvas print of his favorite photo with Cassie and Hope. It made Scott bawl his eyes out for several minutes before he was able to compose himself and grab his gift to give. He handed Nat a gift bag (because he could not wrap to save his life) and inside it was an exquisite emerald Russian shawl—it had crimson roses and golden embroidery throughout.

“A Pavlovo Posad shawl—how did you know, Scott? I lost the one from my family years ago when I was taken to the Red Room. Thank you,” Nat whispered, mesmerized by the fabric in her hands. “It is beautiful—I love it.”

She got up, unceremoniously dropping a nicely wrapped package in Sam’s lap with a smirk on her face. He unwrapped it to reveal an Ella Fitzgerald ‘Best Hits’ vinyl record—his face lit up.

“Aw Nat—you know I love her so much. And I don’t have this one yet—how did you know?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Nat said, her smirk growing. “I have my ways.”

“Alright, well I guess that means I gotta give my gift old Winter the Boy Wonder, huh?” Sam said, walking over to the tree and tossing a present at Bucky’s head but he caught it before it hit him. Inside was a first edition print of Agatha Christie’s The Mysterious Affair at Styles that was in near mint condition. Bucky looked up at Sam with mouth open and wide eyes.

“You knew this was my favorite book growing up?”

“I mean—I may have asked a certain super soldier for some advice but…yeah,” Sam chuckled.

“Thank you, Sam,” Bucky said. He gave his Secret Santa his gift—he had gotten Thor and gave him a special Wakandan polish that Shuri made to keep Stormbreaker clean. “She makes this stuff for my arm. So I figured it would be good to use on your giant axe, too.”

“I am very grateful! Thank you, James,” Thor beamed over at him. “This is very useful. It seems it would be my turn to go, but I have already given my gift. But Steven and Tony are still without presents—has something gone wrong?”

“No,” Nat burst into laughter. “But this is some rom-com bullshit, that’s for sure.”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked, looking at Steve and then Tony, both of whom were sporting vibrant blushes on their cheeks.

“Somehow they drew each other’s names,” Nat laughed. “Ridiculous.”

“Okay, okay—that’s enough. It’s not like we asked for it to happen,” Steve grumbled, shooting Nat a deadly glare. He then turned to look at Tony, face softening, now earnest. “Do you want to go first or do you want me to?”

“No—god, I’ll go first,” Tony stuttered. He felt flustered from all the eyes now staring expectantly at him and Steve. And Christ—it did feel like a cheesy rom-com plot that they had drawn each other’s names. He was not entirely convinced that Nat didn’t somehow set it up for this to happen. There was no way to know how she could have managed such a thing, but if any could, it would be her. His cheeks felt like they were on fire as he handed Steve his present—he felt uncharacteristically sheepish as he sat back down in his cozy couch nook.

Steve stared down at the gift in his lap—it was wrapped in shimmering navy blue paper with delicate silver snowflakes embossed all over it and a silver bow on top. He should have expected that Tony, with his clever mechanic’s fingers, would be able to beautifully wrap gifts. With just the wrapping taking his breath away, Steve felt mildly terrified of what he may find inside. Tony was not a man who spared any expense—what could possibly be in this box? A fancy watch? Keys to a damn countryside house in Italy? The possibilities were, quite literally, endless.

“Will you open it already?” Nat said, snapping him out of his daydreams.

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve mumbled. He carefully unwrapped the gift—not wanting to tear any of the paper because even it looked expensive. After a couple painstaking moments, he had opened it and froze. Steve was unable to move as he stared at what lay in his lap—this was an impossible gift.

“Steve?” Tony asked, leaning forward a bit. Had he done something wrong?  
“Tony, how did you get these?” he sounded totally dumbfounded.

“I used the resources at my disposal. I know an archivist or two as well as family genealogy experts. It was nothing—really, I promise,” Tony said, hands up in defense, expecting to be berated.

“What did he get you?” Scott asked, unable to stand the mystery any longer.

“They’re—um—they’re my old family photos. And an old sketchbook of mine—before, from before, I was Captain America,” Steve whispered. He handed a few of the photos over to Bucky and Nat to look at. There was even a photo of him and Bucky from before either of them joined the military. God—he had forgotten how tiny he was before the serum. It made his stomach knot up a little bit knowing that his friends now could see photographic evidence of how scrawny he looked. But the photos were an absolute treasure that previously were most certainly lost and destroyed.

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line,” Tony said, apprehensive.

“What?” Steve’s head snapped up and he looked at Tony. “God—no, Tony. No. This is perfect. This is amazing—I never thought I would see a photo of my mother’s face again. I—wow—I had forgotten how she looked. And my sketches of my old neighborhood—I had forgotten what it looked like too. It feels…well, it was, a lifetime ago. Thank you, Tony.”

The look Steve gave him was so intense it made his heart and stomach tangle together in the middle of his chest. It was a shared glance simultaneously full of genuine gratitude and something much deeper and far more complicated that Tony was able to process in this instant.

“I’ll admit, you’ve outdone my present,” Steve chuckled awkwardly as he stood up to hand Tony his gift. The present was a large square and relatively flat, wrapped in shiny red paper and glittery gold ribbon. The homage to Iron Man made Tony smile.

“I doubt that, Cap. You could give me some cardboard and I would be happy. Which, judging by the shape and size of this, I’m not entirely sure you haven’t given me cardboard,” Tony laughed.

“It’s not cardboard,” Steve balked. “Promise.”

Tony, unlike Steve, ripped into the paper without hesitation. The tension in the air was overwhelming and he wanted to dispel it—everyone’s eyes were still eagerly watching them and it made him feel suffocated. The sooner this bit was over, the better.

Inside the paper was a black art folder that contained several marvelous sketches of the Iron Man armor, Tony working in his workshop, Tony laughing with Morgan, and Tony with his arm around Peter. The detail was magnificent—they were utterly beautiful. Just as beautiful as the man who had drawn them. He looked over at Steve, mouth hanging open a bit, and eyes watering.

“Steve—these are singlehandedly the most gorgeous pieces of artwork I have ever seen. And yes—I am a bit partial because they have me in them, but still,” Tony said, handing the drawings over to the others so they could see them. “This better than any present I could have thought to ask for. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Tony.”

The resting of the evening was full of Christmas cheer—a fantastic meal that Sam and Scott had catered in so no one had to worry about cooking, lots of laughter, and even a few rounds of card games like Go Fish. Towards the end of the evening Tony cuddled up to Nat on the couch and she stroked his hair, humming softly.

When she stopped humming, Tony asked, “You know I love you very much, right?”

“Yes Tony, I know,” she chuckled.

“Okay, good. I’m just making sure.”

“The Christmas spirit has got you all sappy, hm?” she teased.

“Yeah—something like that,” Tony responded, eyes glancing over at Steve who was busy chatting away with Scott and Sam.

“You should go to bed,” Nat said, nudging him off of her and into a sitting position. “I know Bucky and I are on our way out soon. And Bruce already went to bed.”

Tony yawned and stretched his body out, arms reaching way over his head and legs far out in front of him. He jumped to his feet and kissed Nat’s hand.

“You’re right. I’m exhausted anyway,” he said. “Alright ladies and gents, it has been a wonderful evening, but I’m off to sleep for ten, maybe twelve, hours.”

“Hey Tony,” Steve touched his arm as he walked by, causing him to pause and turn around. “Let me walk you to your room?”

Bucky and Natasha shared a discrete glance, smiling only to each other.

“Whatever suits your fancy, Cap,” Tony hummed.

Once they got into the hallway, away from the earshot of the others, Steve said, “Tony, I know how much money and effort it must have taken to find those things from my childhood. You really did not have to go through all that trouble.”

“Don’t be stupid, Steve,” Tony laughed as they rounded the corner, nearing his room. “It was not that much trouble at all. I paid some people to do some things and they delivered. No big deal.”

They stopped right outside Tony’s room and Steve grabbed onto his elbow, looking down at him with fire burning behind his ocean blue eyes. Something stirred in the base of Tony’s stomach.

“It is a big deal, Tony. It is the best present I have ever been given. It is the most thoughtful—the kindest thing—anyone has ever done for me,” Steve’s voice was a whisper now. But something caught Steve’s attention from the corner of his eye and he looked up. Tony followed his gaze, which was looking above them at the doorframe. Mistletoe.

“Really? Mistletoe?” Tony chuckled.

But before he could make another sarcastic remark, Steve was leaning down and his lips were moving against Tony’s. The rest of the world melted away and they melted into each other. Tony had always thought that if Steve initiated a kiss it would stun him—that he would freeze before finding his way into it—but that was not the case. No, the reality was that Tony had been dreaming about this moment for so long that the second he felt Steve’s soft lips on his he feverishly kissed him back without a moment’s hesitation.

Steve’s lips were delicious. And he was a brilliant kisser. He had not even used his tongue yet and Tony was already seeing stars. It was as if they had been doing this all along. It was new and exciting, but felt oddly familiar. It felt like coming home—like coming to a place that they were always meant to be.

Tony reached up and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair—it felt as good as he had always imagined it would. He pressed his tongue against Steve’s lips and was pleasantly surprised when Steve opened his mouth to reciprocate. What had started out as a gentle kiss quickly dissolved into a passionate blur—Tony could feel Steve’s hands steady on his hips, their bodies pressing into one another, and the warmth of their lips and breath on their faces. They ravished each other as if the fate of the world depended on it. Their kissed grew in intensity, desperation—and Tony could feel Steve’s eagerness pressing against his hipbone. He knew Steve could feel his, too.

The thing they had been tiptoeing around was finally happening and it was entirely consuming Tony. He was lost in the feeling of Steve’s hard muscles against his body, the smell of his shampoo, his firm hands on his hips, and the skill of his tongue. The sensation overload was intoxicating—better than any alcoholic drink he ever had. And it was in that instant, Tony realized this was the happiest he had been in a very long time. He was euphoric. Steve’s lips against his lit up his nervous system and set his skin on fire. Their bodies moving against one another—this closeness, the shattering of the wall that stood between them—ignited a passion inside Tony’s chest that he thought long gone.

And suddenly, it was all too much.

Tony pulled away, both of them breathless, Steve’s eyes half-lidded. He looked confused, a little worried, at Tony’s breaking away so suddenly. It made Tony’s stomach clench, knowing that Steve could read him so well and tell something was wrong that quickly.

“I’ve—I’ve got to get to bed. Its late,” Tony hurried. “Sorry, Cap. Gotta get my beauty sleep.”

He unraveled himself from Steve’s body, who willingly let him go, because the bastard was too damn respectable to try and get him to stay. Tony briefly wondered what he would have done if Steve had protested, even a bit. He knew himself well enough to know he would not have the resolve to turn Steve down if he had asked for more. God—who could turn down a literal Adonis with those flushed and red lips that were, literally, begging to be kissed more? Tony was not that strong.

Before he could have second thoughts, he slipped into his room and shut the door in Steve’s face.

Tony buried his face in his hands and let out a groan. The panic had set in once he realized how wonderful—how important—what was happening had been. And he hated himself for panicking.

But he couldn’t help it, because suddenly the thing that had been so important was real and he was terrified he was going to screw it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, sorry for that ending. You really thought I could give you happiness without some more angst first? The next chapter is going to be full of angst, sorry in advance! But I promise our loving and happy ending is coming soon. Just 3 more chapters (with maybe an epilogue after). Woo!
> 
> Thank you all for your support. Please continue to share on social media. <3


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's locked himself away after kissing Steve under the mistletoe causing both him and Steve to spiral into thoughts of self-doubt. Thankfully, Rhodey and Natasha have a way of pushing their friends to do things they're too stupid to do on their own.

Tony had a secondary, top-secret workshop built in the compound for dire situations like this. Only he, Rhodey, and obviously Friday, knew the location of this workshop. It was hidden away behind walls that didn’t look like doors.

This secret workshop had originally been made for things such as making new tech that should never be found if the compound got raided—especially after the Accords. It could even serve as a hideout if an attack was launched on the compound—a safe space for non-superheroes to take cover. In its design and creation, Tony never imagined that he would be using it to hide from Steve after passionately kissing him under mistletoe.

And Tony had to hide here, in the secret workshop, because Friday was a frequent traitor and often let Steve into his normal workshop even when he told his A.I. not to let anyone in. He did not remember programming her to be so conniving. Why did he always end up with A.I. that didn’t listen and acted so much like him? Something about subconsciously programming them so he could have arguments with himself—maybe.

For the first two hours he hid away, Tony surprised himself by actually getting some work done. He made significant progress on a new ice repulsor design that would freeze targets instead of blasting them. This would prove useful when he needed to neutralize targets but not injure them—it was a design he had been putting off because of where his mind usually went when thinking ice. However, somehow, he managed to focus.

But two hours in, his mind derailed. He should have known his mind—which was ever running—would not stop for long.

It went like this.

Ice repulsor. Ice. Finding Captain America frozen in ice. Steve. Kissing Steve. God, how good that kiss felt.

Tony threw the screwdriver in his hand against the wall. Whenever his train of thought ran wild he was prone to having temper tantrums. He hated that habit, but never bothered to put much effort into stopping. What could he say? Sometimes it felt good to throw things.

He considered indulging himself—letting his fantasies come to life, remembering the feel of Steve’s lips against his, and sliding his hand into his pants. He was able to consider this for less than a minute before the crippling fear of his inadequacies overwhelmed his fantasies. His anxieties—the deep seated fear that he ruined everything he touched—tumbled down like an avalanche. They suffocated out any semblance of hope.

Honestly—look at his track record. Romantically, Tony was more of a failure than anything else. For a long time, what he and Pepper had was really good. And that was the only long-term, extremely stable relationship he had to go off of—look how that ended. Despite all of Pepper’s consoling, her reassurances that they both were at fault, his anxious mind would not let go of the idea that the full responsibility rest on his shoulders.

Tony was on anxiety medication for a reason. Between PTSD and the chemical defects in his mind—medication was an absolute must. But even with the regulation his medicine provided, nothing was a cure all. In his worst moments, Tony still spiraled down anxious trains of thoughts and got lost in them. It just so happened that any romantic topic was something he was extremely susceptible to become anxious.

And god, did he hate it. He occasionally thought it was a lot easier when he just got drunk and blindly slept with whoever he could find. Easier—maybe—but significantly unfulfilling and life-draining.

If there was one lesson Tony had reluctantly learned in life, it was that easier was rarely better.

He had thought Ultron was the easier solution.

The Accords.

Yeah—no, easier was not better.

And, if he were completely honest with himself, a committed relationship was something he craved. Something he genuinely wanted. He had always been the type of person, that when he fell in love, it was damn near impossible to fall out of it. Hell—he didn’t even stop loving Pepper—they just stopped working—stopped making sense together.

And Steve was also clear evidence of that. Tony had loved him since childhood—hearing heroic tales of Captain America from Howard. He hated him too, yes, because Howard clearly wanted Captain America around and could give zero shits about his own, actual, son. And then he met Steve—way back in 2012, god had it been that long?—and that hate disappeared.

They had argued so much back then. Steve probably thought Tony hated him, but the it was really a defense mechanism. He couldn’t let Steve see how soft the other man actually made him. And it was a fun game—winding Steve up was hilarious and something Tony still did to this day whenever he got the chance.

Anyway—the point still stood—Tony’s relationship track record was rocky at best. And he could not bear to ruin something with Steve. If they broke up, if they lost their friendship—it would destroy Tony. Hell, it already had—once before. The year after Siberia he drank more than ever before. He pushed everyone away, except for Rhodey, for a long time. His ability to trust others, to be open, was ruined. It took forever to recover—in a lot of ways, he was still recovering.

What if Steve kept something from him again, when they were dating, how would that go? That train of thought tugged at his mind, too. Would a relationship with Steve withstand another blow to his trust? He and Steve had messiah complexes—they needed to save everyone they cared about—and sometimes that meant lies of omission. Tony wasn’t stupid, he knew that, and he could easily Steve convincing himself again that keeping something from Tony was safer for him.

God—how would that work? He knew Steve was sorry for what had happened between them, but was that the same thing as knowing not to lie again?

Tony spiraled so deep into his worries that he did not hear Rhodey enter the workshop. He practically jumped out of his skin when Rhodey spoke up.

“Tones, man, if you don’t cut that shit out I’m going to have to kick your ass,” Rhodey cut into his spiral.

But Tony didn’t miss a beat.

“Rhodey-bear, whatever do you mean?” Tony hummed, picking up a screwdriver and mindlessly tightening a bolt on his repulsor prototype.

“I’ve been your friend for decades, I know what you look like when you zone out into one of your anxiety spirals.”

Tony evaded the subject.

“How did you know I was in here?”

“I knew. But I confirmed with Friday.”

“Traitor,” Tony grumbled, shaking his screwdriver at the ceiling.

“Sorry boss—it was my conclusion that you were not in a healthy headspace and therefore a friend checking in on you would be beneficial,” Friday’s calm voice responded.

“Well, as both you and Rhodey-bear can see, I’m completely fine. I’m working on a new project, top secret, and that’s why I’ve retreated to my super special hidey-hole,” Tony said.

Rhodey laughed a hollow laugh. “Yeah, okay Tones. I know you and Rogers kissed last night, the jig is up.”

Tony visibly stiffened, white knuckle gripping his screwdriver. “How, uh, do you know that?”

“Because for someone with super soldier senses, Steve did not scan the room before barging into to talk to Nat about it and I was sitting right there. He had already gotten out the ‘Tony and I kissed last night but then he ran away and won’t talk to me’ before he saw me. So yeah, thanks for coming to your best friend about it, Tones.”

“You know I’m not that great at the talking part of this stuff.”

“Yeah—but you’ve got Steve acting like a confused school boy so I would think that even you have reached the point of needing to talk about this,” Rhodey retorted.

“A confused school boy, huh?” Tony perked up.

“Nope, I am not indulging you. You are being punished for hiding away and letting yourself spiral instead of being an adult and talking to your best friend about it,” Rhodey snipped.

“Aw come on Rhodey-bear,” Tony whined, walking over to the workshop couch that was to Rhodey’s immediate right and throwing himself on it. He looked up at his friend with large, brown Bambi eyes and batted his eyelashes. “Did he really care enough to go asking for advice?”

“Did he really care—christ, Tones, you’re an idiot. Of course he did,” Rhodey grumbled. “You think Steve Rogers just goes around kissing people left and right?”

“Weeellllll,” Tony hummed.

“He ended up dating Sharon, so don’t even go there,” Rhodey interrupted and Tony snapped his mouth shut. “You know he cares about you deeply Tony. I would venture to say he even loves you, god help him.”

“I’m not,” Tony started, frowning and taking in a deep breath. “I’m not doubting that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I fuck everything up when it comes to romance, you know that. You’ve been with me through almost all of it. My only successful long-term relationship ended in divorce.” Tony ran a shaking hand through his hair and let out a loud sigh. “And I can’t mess this up, not with him.”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe Steve is aware of all of this? And that he doesn’t care? That he wants to build something with you and work through whatever comes your way, together?” Rhodey asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“I mean…”

“Look Tones, I know you’re a futurist and you’re always trying to look far down the road, but that’s also what gets you so anxious. That’s what caused Ultron and the Accords and every other thing you regret. You look ahead and assume that everything ahead has got to be the worst case scenario and then you make bad choices,” Rhodey explained. “But you forget you’re also amazing at fixing things. Building new things. And that maybe it is okay to make choices that exist only in this one moment. And when something does go wrong in the future, you can fix it.”

Tony sat there, rendered unusually quiet, absorbing what Rhodey had said. Rhodey knew that Tony was genuinely mulling it over, because the man was rarely silent. Finally, Tony spoke up, more timid than usual.

“I just don’t know what to do, Rhodey.”

“For god’s sake, you had a Captain America poster up in your dorm room. When you met Steve in 2012 you wouldn’t shut up about him for months. And I watched you damn near drink yourself into an early grave after Siberia—you’ve loved the man for decades. Just go kiss him and fall into bed together, already.”

“You make a compelling point, Rhodey-bear. After all my years of pining, I do deserve to feel those abs up close and personal,” Tony replied with a shit eating grin. Rhodey visibly shuddered in disgust.

“Man, I’ve never wanted to picture your sex life and I don’t want to do it now.”

 

~

 

“Steve, I really need you to get your head out of your ass about this,” Natasha snapped.

Steve looked at her with wide eyes and an open mouth, having just been interrupted mid-sentence. “What?” he gaped.

“You’re not an idiot, but you’re acting like one,” she replied, rubbing her temples and closing her eyes. “Now, you know I love you, but I think it is time for some tough love, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve whispered, tentatively bracing himself for the worst. Hell hath no fury like an angry Natasha.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, and gripping one of Steve’s knees with her hand—she squeezed it tightly. “You know Tony, but you’re acting like you don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how he gets in his head about things. You know how, despite his exterior confident attitude, he’s often very anxious and insecure about things. You know that he thinks his divorce with Pepper was all his fault. Now, what can you deduce based off of all those things?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times, like a fish out of water. “I—“

“Steve,” Nat said sternly, squeezing his knee so tightly it almost hurt.

“That he’s afraid he’s going to mess everything up between us.”

“Thank god,” she sighed, letting go of his knee and sitting back in her chair.

“But what—what do I do about that?” Steve asked helplessly.

Natasha laughed. “The master tactician doesn’t have a plan?”

“Well—I don’t want to mess this up either, Nat.”

“Just—be honest with him. Reassure him. Soothe his anxiety the best you can. Listen to his concerns and respond in kind,” she explained. “You have a way with words. You give the best speeches. I’m sure you’ll say the right thing.”

“This isn’t like trying to rally everyone up before a battle, Nat.”

“Isn’t it?” She raised her eyebrows. “I mean—a bit. It sort of is. You two, rallying together, coming together finally. In this way. It kind of is.”

“I guess,” Steve pondered. “A bit.”

“Steve, you mean damn near everything you say, you’ll figure it out.”

 

~

 

“Did you know Aunt May is dating Happy?” Peter groaned, sitting across from Tony at their favorite diner in Queens, Pop’s Diner.

“Unfortunately,” Tony chuckled. “Happy won’t shut up about her. But go him—your Aunt May is a—nevermind.” Peter’s disgusted look stopped Tony is his tracks.

“Anyway—thanks for helping me take care of that Mysterio stuff,” Peter said, stuffing his mouth full of pancakes and syrup.  
“Remind—how exactly did he con you out of the super special Stark Industries glasses I entrusted you with?” Tony said, frowning.

“Uhhhhh,” Peter replied, mouth muffled by a forkful of pancakes. He swallowed, hard. “Well. You see—he said he worked for you and uh. Well, I thought he was a good guy. Another prodigy of yours.”

“Another prodigy?”

“Well yeah, I mean aren’t I—nevermind. Anyway, my bad.”

“Yeah, your bad. It’s fine—he’s a good liar. That’s sort of his thing. Sorry he made you think I was dead,” Tony sat back in his side of the booth and took a long sip of his coffee.

“Yeah—that sucked. A lot,” Peter grimaced. “How did you, uh, undo the whole…revealing my identity thing?”

Tony laughed.

“It was nothing Friday couldn’t handle. She deleted every trace of it off the internet—and will continue to monitor and delete anything else that comes up—and we have effectively shown how slimy and unreliable Mysterio is—should be good to go.”

“You’re a life saver.”

“I know.” Tony smirked, far too pleased with himself but Peter didn’t seem to mind. God, he loved this kid.

“So, are you and Captain America dating yet?”

Tony choked on his coffee. “What?”

“Come on Tony—you already know I know. I’ve been in the same room as you two—anyone who has knows,” Peter replied, wearing Tony’s shit eating grin with an alarming accuracy. He took another mouthful of pancakes.

“You know what? You little shit—for your information—we’re not,” Tony said matter-of-factly.

“And why not?” Peter asked, sounding genuinely concerned, the grin fading.

“I am not—you are not—I am not having this conversation with a teenager,” Tony fumbled. “No way. Nope.”

“I don’t know Tony,” Peter replied. “Me and M.J. are doing really well. I think I might be a pro at this dating stuff.”

“Absolutely not,” Tony snapped, holding up a finger. “She guessed your secret superhero identity and you only kissed her after damn near dying, and getting her killed, and that’s the bullshit that only happens in movies. You don’t know anything.”

“Okay, okay!” Peter held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just sayiiiiing, it’s better to do something than wonder what would have happened. It’s better to do something before it’s too late. I mean—you’re both superheroes, you almost die all the time.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned.

“Just saying.” Peter shrugged and stuffed his mouth with more food.

 

~

 

 

Steve knew everything Tony had been through made jumping in to a new intimate, romantic relationship not only scary but damn near impossible. He had never personally experience even half of the romantic pitfalls Tony had been through—Peggy and Sharon being his only romantic conquests and, well, both ended quite unconventionally. But he was a tactician, he was able to see things a lot of people didn’t, which made him quite skilled in putting himself in other people’s shoes.

He empathized with Tony. Thinking about the pain, the fear, that Tony must feel was heart-wrenching.

It made him want to scoop Tony up and reassure him that everything will be alright until he believed him. Steve would do that for decades if that is what it took, because Tony deserved the world and much more.

At the same time, Steve had his own fears and insecurities. He had been doing his best to stamp them down, but seeing Tony run away after their kiss had reignited them stronger than before. Ever since he had met him in 2012, Steve had felt less than Tony—Tony, who was everything good and amazing about the future, was way out of Steve’s league.

And even though Steve had acclimated to the future, that was mostly due to Tony giving him a home in a new century, and that made him feel like a relic of the past. Tony deserved someone as sleek, suave, and brilliant as he was—hell, Pepper was certainly all of those things and more. Over the years, Steve had tried small, albeit pathetic attempts, to prove to Tony that he was also all of those things. His mild attempts ranged from wearing leather jackets to quoting modern movies he knew Tony loved.  
God—he was really pathetic and hopeless, wasn’t he?

Ultimately, he knew Bucky and Nat were right. He was tired of waiting and wondering what could possibly happen between him and Tony. Literal decades of intense glances, sharing beds on missions with tension radiating between them, and all the moments in-between had finally come to a head. Steve finally had a chance to see if they could build a romantic life together. And yes, they both had their fears, but Steve was not one to let fear hold him back. Hell—if he could face off against Thanos he could talk to Tony about what was going on between them.

He had had enough of tiptoeing around everything important.

Nat was right—she always was, regrettably—if he just communicated his side of things clearly, then he could at least sleep at night knowing he did his best. He shot his shot. He will not have wasted the opportunity to try for the thing that he had wanted for as long as he could remember since waking up in this century.

The only problem was he could not find Tony anywhere in the compound.

So he settled on finding Rhodey instead.

 

~

 

 

“Okay, listen, I’m a dead man for showing you this and letting you in, but if Tones gets laid from it, maybe he won’t be so angry,” Rhodey said, showing Steve the not-a-door-door that led to Tony’s secret workshop.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Steve replied, wincing a bit.

“I think everyone knows you two need to fuck out your problems, so don’t pull the paragon of pure American ideals with me, Rogers,” Rhodey replied. “Just—go in there and figure this shit out. It’s breaking my heart to see Tones moping around like this.”

“Trust me—that’s what I want to do. Figure this out. Make it work.”

“Oh—and one other thing—if you hurt him,” Rhodey didn’t bother continuing, he just raised his eyebrows at Steve and crossed his arms.

“I know. I won’t—I don’t want to.”

 

~

 

 

When Steve let himself into the secret workshop Tony was standing in the far left corner, his back to him, working away on a project. He didn’t even turn around—well of course he didn’t, he thinks Rhodey just walked in—and suddenly Steve regretted betraying Tony’s trust. Well—Rhodey had, technically—but that didn’t stop Steve from feeling bad about going along with it. The last thing he needed to do was ruin Tony’s trust any further—that was really, at the core of it, the problem between them. And then, like it always did, Tony’s voice guided Steve back to reality.

“Rhodey-bear, you’re being awfully quiet,” Tony hummed, bending over and zeroing in on a small section of the gauntlet with a tiny laser pen. Steve’s heart clenched in his chest knowing the second he replied, this brief version of this where he could pretend that Tony knew it was him in the secret workshop—because in this daydream they were a couple so of course Steve knew about Tony’s secret workshop—and this was their routine to hide away in here together. The minute he spoke—that beautiful illusion would be shattered.

“Actually,” Steve whispered. “Tony, it’s me.”

Tony jumped a bit and dropped the tool he was holding, but kept his back to Steve, frozen. A few moments passed before Tony stood up straight and spun around on his heel to face him directly. He had a look of utter defiance on his face, lips pulled tight, and eyes narrowed.

“That traitor—wait—which one was it? My A.I. or my former best friend?” Tony snapped, staring at him accusingly.

Should he rat out the program or the person? Instead of saying either, he just kept his mouth shut and shrugged. Tony threw his hands up in the air in response before putting them on his hips and sighing. “I guess it doesn’t matter which one. But it was probably Rhodey—he’s seemed suspicious lately.”

“I’m sorry—Tony, I really needed to talk to you. And you were hiding in here, probably thinking all the wrong things—so I found my way in,” Steve explained.

Another silence stretched out between them, Tony’s resolved faltering a bit before he squared up his shoulders and stood as tall as he could manage. Steve felt his chest tighten, preparing for the impending blows that were going to be hurled his way. Tony was a professional verbal boxer and Steve knew that if they were going to get anywhere, he would have to be the one to stay level headed.

“Cut the knight in shining armor crap, Cap. It’s not your job to bust down doors to come to my rescue or whatever you think you’re doing. This isn’t something you have to—something that you can fix, Rogers,” he snarled. “So you can just spin your star spangled ass around and walk out the door.”

“Tony—you’ve got to be kidding me,” Steve said, exasperated. “You’re not even going to try and talk to me about it before making up your mind?”

“You know me, Rogers, I make up my mind way before anyone else is even thinking about it. That’s what being a futurist means,” Tony snapped. And as Steve started to reply, Tony kept cutting him off—their voices getting higher and louder the further they spiraled into a struggle for who would get to talk first.

“Seriously—“

“You think it’s so easy—“

“Tony, stop—“

“But it isn’t that simple, and not even your All-American—“

“Tony—“

“Do-goodiness, can do—“

“Tony, for god’s sake, I love you! This isn’t some game I’m trying to play, I’m in love with you,” Steve shouted, his voice finally loud enough to stop Tony’s rant in its tracks.

Tony’s heart felt like it had come to a complete stop for ten seconds too long. If the Arc Reactor was still in his chest, he would have been convinced that it quit working and the shrapnel had finally taken him. But he didn’t fall over dead, so he must have been imagining it. His mouth, he slowly realized, was gaping open and closed like a fish out of water. It was a bizarre feeling—being at a loss for words—it was not something he could remember experiencing. At least not in a long time.

Steve crossed the room to stand right in front of Tony and it wasn’t until Steve’s fingers were gently wiping away tears that Tony realized he was crying. When did that happen? But Steve’s touch was gentle and it made his stomach flip—he leaned into it without meaning to and closed his eyes. He couldn’t run from this—not here—it was at the surface now, how he felt for Steve, his fear and feelings of unworthiness. It was time to deal with it all.

“Steve,” he croaked out, barely audible.

“Tony,” Steve whispered. “I know what you’re thinking. And you’re wrong. God—you’re so wrong. I love you. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I love every bit about you.” He reached down and grabbed Tony’s hands, bringing his knuckles to his lips and kissing them. “I love your hands. I love your hands and the amazing things they create.”

Steve leaned forward a bit, lightly kissing Tony’s forehead. “I love your brain. Your genius brain that creates things that make the world a better place—that literally saves the world. And your smile—god—I would do anything to see you smile,” he says, kissing Tony’s cheek near his lips.

And yet Tony stayed silent, completely still, a few tears still slipping down his cheeks.

Steve collapsed to his knees, arms wrapping around Tony’s waist, and leaning his head against his stomach. After taking a few shuddering breaths, Steve moved up just enough to kiss Tony’s chest where the Arc Reactor had been.

“I love your heart most of all. Your pure, selfless, loving heart. You are the best person I know Tony and I say that unflinchingly—I know you are with every fiber of my being,” Steve said, strong conviction in his tone. He looked up at Tony through his long lashes, jaw set with determination, and intensity burning in his blue eyes.

When Tony looked down and saw Steve’s expression his breath caught in his throat. What had he ever done to deserve such steadfastness from him? Steve was a man with a heart of gold, but even so, this was something more than that—Tony could admit that much. And Steve would not lie to Tony, not again, and not about something this significant.

Tony’s whole world was being turned upside down.

“Tony.”

Steve grounded him in reality—the here and now—and god if that wasn’t reason enough to give in and just let this finally happen…

“Tony, please tell me you believe. Please say something,” he pleaded, still on his knees, arms still around Tony, looking up at him now with desperation and hope in his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do Steve—Christ,” Tony replied. He pulled Steve back up to standing and looked up at him with a frown. “I trust you. I trust you and I love you too.”

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asked. And Tony frowned deeper, wondering why Steve would ask in a time like this, but then he vividly remembered how he ran away last time and nodded.

“Yes.”

Before Tony could even breathe another word, Steve’s lips were against his. Steve’s mouth was open and wet and desperate as he poured every ounce of his emotions into the action. Suddenly, that nagging voice in the back of Tony’s head telling him he wasn’t good enough for this was overridden by primal desire and the deliciousness of Steve’s plush lips moving against his. He wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, holding him close, and arching his body against the taller man’s.

Steve’s hands were splayed out on his hips, steady and gripping tightly. A shiver ran down Tony’s spine and straight to his groin as he suddenly became aware of how prominent his arousal was. Tony was never one to blush in the face of debauchery—but this was Steve, this was very much so different—and when they broke their kiss for air, Tony felt his face redden under Steve’s gaze. But Steve’s pupils were blown wide, his lips swollen—the look on his face was anything but innocent.

The desire pooling at the base of his stomach surged at the sight and he couldn’t resist sweeping his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip. The wanton groan that escaped Steve’s mouth only encouraged Tony to keep going. He gently bit his bottom lip and pulled, the hands on his hips squeezing noticeably tighter.

What had started out innocent was now surprisingly intense, fueled by years of neglected passion and need.

It was thrilling. Electrifying. Every nerve ending felt aflame.

Steve captures him into another kiss, surprising Tony by pushing his tongue into his mouth and exploring wildly. It was, hands down, the best kiss Tony had ever experienced (and he had experienced many kisses before.) He wrapped his body around Steve’s, who he knew he could trust to hold him steady, and utterly lost himself in the simple yet beautiful sensation of his lips.

A shaky hand cupped the back of his neck and he lets out a tiny whine of protest as Steve pulls away. But Steve keeps his face close, resting his forehead against Tony’s, panting desperately for oxygen. His baby blue eyes are alive with arousal and looking down at Tony through his exquisite eyelashes. Seriously—did Captain America wear mascara?

“Why haven’t we been doing that all along?” Tony breathed out, chuckling slightly.

“We’re idiots,” Steve laughed.

“God—yeah. How stupid of us not to take advantage of this.”

“Tony,” Steve whispered, his tone shifting.

“Let’s go to my bedroom,” Tony responded, his own tone going serious. He looked up at Steve’s hypnotic blue eyes with certainty.

“You’re sure?”

And instead of using words, Tony pulled Steve down into a deep kiss. He slipped his tongue past those lavish lips and rolled his hips against Steve’s—earning a delicious, deep moan from the other man. When he felt he had made his point abundantly clear, Tony broke away and stared at him defiantly.

“Yeah—your room. Okay. Good.”

Tony smirked as he grabbed Steve’s hand, their fingers intertwining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who encourages me, leaves comments, and kudos! They are all a writers fuel. Please share this story with anyone you think would like it. Just a few more chapters to go! Woo hoo! It is all coming together.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Tony finally go on their first official date. And their night ends with passion.

The sunlight slipping through the curtains just so happened to get cast directly across Tony’s eyes causing him to slowly stir into wakefulness. He groaned angrily, throwing his forearm over his face to shield himself from the imposing natural light.

“Friday—close the curtains,” he growled.

“Sure, boss,” the AI complied as the curtains closed fully.

Tony sighed, turning over onto his left side, only to bump into a solid wall of muscle. He let out a gasp, visibly startling, as his early morning blurry vision started to focus on Steve’s sleeping form next to him.

Oh. Right.

Jesus—he had not thought it possible, but Steve looked even more angelic when deep asleep. His face was completely relaxed and it was nice to see him truly at peace like that. Steve was all muscle—strong biceps and rock hard abs—but sleeping like this he was also long eyelashes against soft cheeks and messy, golden hair. Tony took extra time to commit this image to memory for safe keeping.

But then his brain abruptly halted—wait. Did he and Steve have sex last night?

He really hoped they didn’t, because he would prefer to distinctly remember something like that happening. Tony cautiously lifted the blankets, trying not to disturb Steve, and get a peek of what they were both wearing.

Steve was in his boxers, Tony in pajama pants and a t-shirt. Either they didn’t have sex or they did and decided to get dressed after—which was not Tony’s usual post-coitus protocol unless he had somewhere to be.

Gradually, Steve’s eyes fluttered open to stare at Tony with hazy azure eyes. A genuine, but large and goofy grin, spread across his face when he realized Tony was awake and looking right back at him.

“Hey,” Steve said, voice cracking from sleepiness.

“Hey,” Tony chuckled, reaching out to gently push strands of hair out of his face. “You’re beautiful in the morning.”

The vibrant flush that crossed Steve’s cheeks earned a smug smirk in return from Tony.

“So do you, Tony. You know, relaxation looks good on you,” Steve responded. “You should try it more.”

“Ha, very funny Rogers,” Tony huffed. “Now uhh—tell me. Did we have sex last night?”

Steve burst out laughing—not the reaction Tony had hoped for regardless of if they had sex or not. He crossed his arms over his chest, pouting, until Steve composed himself enough to respond.

“God Tony—no, we did not. I’m offended you think sex with me would be forgettable,” he teased.

“What! No—that’s not what I was saying,” Tony balked, looking horrified with wide eyes and reaching out to hold onto Steve’s arms.

“I was kidding,” Steve chuckled, grabbing one of Tony’s hands and kissing his knuckles.

“It’s just not usually like me to not jump the bones of a beautiful blonde the second I get them into my bed,” Tony purred, scooting closer to Steve’s body. Each soft kiss Steve pressed to his knuckles and the palm of his hand made his stomach flutter.

“Mmmm, well last night we decided we wanted to take things slow and you were so exhausted from hiding in your secret shop, working your worries away, I made you go to sleep for once.”

“Oh yes, that does sound familiar,” Tony grumbled. “Apparently I have a thing for hot blondes that also like to bully me into taking care of myself. Ridiculous.”

“Yes, Pepper and I are monsters. I can’t believe we make sure you eat, sleep, and drink water.”

“Yes, absolute terrors,” he whined. “The literal worst.”

Steve quieted his teasing by capturing his lips in a soft, early morning kiss. Tony eagerly wrapped himself around Steve’s body, his hands getting tangled in that beautiful blonde hair, successfully distracted from his previous complaints. Just as the kiss started getting indecent, Friday’s voice broke them apart: “Boss, you have a Stark Industries meeting in an hour. Ms. Potts has included in this reminder that you must be there—or else.”

“Guess you should get up and get ready,” Steve hummed, pressing a kiss to Tony’s forehead.

Tony groaned. “I never go to things I’m supposed to. I’ll just say I’m sick.”

“Tony,” Steve frowned.

“Oh no—you and Pepper are going to double team me, aren’t you? And not in the way I would like you to, either,” Tony whined. But he had clearly given up, as he rolled out of bed and stretched his arms over his head. Steve got out of bed and walked over to him, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and kissing him on the cheek several times. “You know, you’re not making it any easier for me to leave, Rogers.”

“I know, I’m sorry—I just really like kissing you. I’ve been wanting to do it for over a decade. It’s hard to stop now that I can,” Steve replied, sheepishly looking away as he blushed—which only made Tony grin like a fool.

“I’m glad we didn’t have sex last night. I want to do this right. You, me—date night. Dress nice, I’m taking you out on a proper date tonight,” Tony said. He slipped out of Steve’s arms, kissing him on the cheek, before confidently sauntering off to his walk-in closet.

Steve shamelessly watched the sway of Tony’s hips as he walked away, but then it hit him—a proper date? He had taken Sharon on plenty of nice dates and they had gone well, but doing the same thing with Tony was entirely different. For all he knew, a ‘proper date’ with Tony meant a private jet to Italy and dinner at a Michelin 3-star restaurant.

It took less than a minute for Steve to psyche himself out and start to panic.

Impressing Tony, especially on their first real date, meant a lot to him. This was a date a decade in the making—it had to go well. From the sound of it, Tony was going to be taking the lead on the planning for the evening. And even though Steve enjoyed planning—he was the tactician of the team, after all—it was a relief to have Tony in charge of it. One less thing to worry about.

But it was also very worrying to have Tony in charge of it—to have no idea what was coming his way or how to be prepared for it.

“Hey Tony?” Steve called, while picking up his jeans off the floor and pulling them on.

“Yes, love bug?” Tony shouted back from inside the closet.

“What should I wear tonight?” Steve was grateful Tony could not see the red blush of embarrassment on his face.

“Something nice. I trust you to make a good choice,” Tony laughed.

“Great.”

 

~

 

 

A solid punch from Bucky’s metal arm collided with Steve’s cheek. He stumbled back into the ropes of the training ring, his hand flying up to rub the growing red mark on his face.

“You’re off your game Stevie,” Bucky teased, still bouncing around as he waited for Steve to retaliate. “What’s wrong?”

But instead of getting a response from Steve, Nat launched herself onto Bucky’s shoulders from behind. Her thighs tightened around his head as she used the momentum, twisting her body to the side, to flip him over onto his back. She rolled away and jumped back to her feet, dusting off her legs with a smirk.

“Don’t get distracted Barnes, this is a three way fight,” Nat chided.

“Tony and I made out last night and then went back to his room and fell asleep in his bed together. And this morning he said that he was going to take me out on a proper date tonight,” Steve rambled, the nervousness bubbling over to the point where he could not keep it inside any longer.

Instantly, Nat and Bucky switched off the assassin portion of their brains and stepped fully into their ‘Steve’s best friends and protectors’ shoes. Bucky sat up, idly rubbing his neck from Nat’s attack, and she crossed the ring to rub Steve’s arm sympathetically.

“Okay, that’s a lot of new information for us to take in, Steve,” she said. “Why didn’t you tell us before?”

Steve sighed.

“I was just so—well, I still am so nervous and I was hoping a good sparring match would knock it out of me,” he looked at Bucky accusingly. “But it didn’t and I couldn’t hold it in anymore. So here we are.”

“The fuck are you nervous for?” Bucky said, earning a deadly glare from Nat but he continued on. “You guys are finally done tiptoeing around this shit, its real—what’s the problem?”

“Because a date with the very rich, incredibly suave, and extravagant Tony Stark is intimidating? I mean honestly Buck—my go to dates are picnics in Central Park, Netflix marathons at home, and cozy dates in little hole in the wall restaurants in Brooklyn.”

“You don’t know what Tony’s planning, Steve. It might be something exactly your speed,” Nat soothed, still gently rubbing his arm.

He let out another sigh. “He told me to dress nice.”

“You should always dress nice for a date, Steve. That doesn’t mean anything,” she said. “Will you feel better if I help you pick out an outfit?”

“Yes,” Steve croaked, sounding a little too desperate for the help.

He knew it was illogical—especially since Tony said he loved him too just the night before—but somehow it was scarier to think you might lose something you now have. He also knew that Tony was significantly more humble, gracious, and simple than people assumed him to be. The man preferred Burger King over steak, grease stained jeans and a ratty band tee over a tailored suit, and crappy homemade coffee over a fancy latte. Steve was too in his head about this—he knew all of this—but anxiety rarely listened to reason, even if the reason was clear.

“I just don’t want to mess it up now that I have it,” he confessed, staring down at his feet. “Tony clearly thinks this is worth a shot and I just don’t want to let him down.”

“Man I hate to break it to you,” Bucky interrupted. “But Nat and I let each other down at least once a week, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t worth it.”

She rolled her eyes, but nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Steve. Relationships are not all sunshine and rainbows, especially not when they’re new and you’re figuring things out. But you and Tony have chosen to do this—and you two have never half-assed anything when it has come to the other one—including damn near killing each other over miscommunication and misplaced priorities.”

“Would rather forget that bit, thanks,” he grumbled.

“I’m just saying,” she continued. “You love each other. You’re all in this, Tony’s all in this. Hell, you two have both been wanting this for years—you’re going to be okay. Besides, what honestly would happen? He takes you to a fancy dinner and you pick up the wrong fork and he leaves you? Steve, you are not nearly as incompetent as you think you are and Tony is not at all judgmental like you’re freaking yourself out to believe he is—and you know he isn’t. You know he’s actually the most chill person on this team, at times.”

Steve sucked in a deep, refreshing breath—he let Nat’s words of wisdom wash over him. He took a moment to ground himself—feel his feet against the sparring mat, smell the sweat in the air, recognize the feeling of Nat’s palm on his arm—this was reality. What Nat said was reality—not his anxiety fueled fears. The nervousness was not completely gone, but it was quelled.

“Thank you guys. You’re right—I feel better, really,” Steve said, smiling and looking between his two friends. “I would be lost without you two.”

“Oh, we know,” Bucky laughed.

 

~

 

Three hours later, Steve settled on the blue button up shirt that Nat had suggested from the beginning because ‘it really brings out his eyes’ and ‘Tony can’t resist his eyes.’ He had spent too much time flip flopping between options because this had to be perfect.

“You could go naked—actually, he might prefer that,” Bucky had teased and Steve was not amused.

Thankfully, Steve did not have much time to worry by himself after getting dressed. He had taken so long to get ready that it was almost time for their date by the time he was finished. Just as he took a deep breath and centered himself—there was a knock on his bedroom door. When he opened it, he found Tony standing there in jeans, a AC/DC shirt, and his black leather jacket. He was too mesmerized by how gorgeous Tony looked—the man managed to make anything look exquisite—to realize that he himself had overdressed for the occasion. The leather jacket was one of Steve’s favorite wardrobe pieces that Tony wore.

“You’re a little overdressed, Cap,” Tony’s laugh broke him out of his shameless staring.

“Well, you did say nice,” Steve countered.

“Yeah—but you always look nice. Whereas I’m prone to wearing grease stained clothing for several days too long.” Tony reached up and undid Steve’s top button with a smirk. “You’re going to want something warmer and more comfortable.”

Steve grumbled, but complied. After a short trip back into his room, he came out wearing jeans and a navy blue bomber jacket. “Better?”

Tony grinned.

“Much.”

They made they way to the garage, where Tony guided them to his 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California Spider and jumped into the driver’s seat. This was one of Tony’s fanciest cars—but that didn’t mean anything. Steve was pretty sure Tony didn’t own a cheap car—there were no Honda Accords in sight, anyway.

“You’re tense,” Tony finally acknowledged after a few minutes of silent driving.

“Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tony said. “I’m not upset—just worried. You still want to do this—right?”  
“God, Tony—yeah of course,” Steve replied, shifting in his seat to be angled towards Tony. “That’s exactly why I’m tense. I want this so badly I’m afraid of messing it up, because this is the single most important thing in the universe to me.”

“If anyone messes this up, it isn’t gonna be you, Steve,” Tony sighed. “Trust me, that’s more my department. Obnoxious perfection is your’s.”

“But at least you’re really good at fixing things. I tend to wait too long or make impulsive choices that have decades long implications,” he countered.

A laugh barked out of Tony.

“Alright—enough of this. Both of us. We waited too long already and we aren’t going to let our own personal insecurities hold us back any longer. I, personally, am stoked this is happening,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve said. They reached for each other at the same time—settling for holding hands behind the gear shift in the center consul. He kept his body angled towards Tony and relaxed into watching him drive—like everything Tony did, he looked beautiful while driving. It was one of the many things Tony did skillfully and easily.

Tony’s cheeks gradually got redder under Steve’s gaze until he broke, “Take a picture, it will last longer Rogers.”

Steve just laughed. “I’m not gonna apologize for looking at the most beautiful person in the world.”

Which only made Tony’s cheeks get darker.

“Alright—you’re one to talk, Adonis.”

Their bantering earned another laugh from Steve. They had finally settled back into the comfort of their friendship—now relationship—and the nervousness had melted away. This was easy—it felt right and it was fun, the way they teased each other with nothing but deep love.

This date night was already everything Steve had hoped for.

 

~

 

Steve had already gotten excited as they drove into Brooklyn. The fact that Tony would plan their date in Brooklyn meant the world to him. But then they parked in front of a small local art gallery and Steve’s love for Tony grew bigger than he thought possible.  
“Okay,” Tony started, pulling some keys out of his pockets and unlocking the door to the gallery. “It’s just us here, because I wanted you to see this first and get your approval. But if you don’t like it—Bucky helped me so you have to get mad at him too, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Tony locked the door behind them and ushered them over to the far left corner. It took a total of two seconds for Steve to realize what was displayed on the walls—it was his art. A collection of his best sketches and paintings were perfectly hung up in a real art gallery—in Brooklyn, no less. There were sketches of the New York skyline, Avengers Tower, the Iron Man armor, paintings of Bucky and Nat dancing, Morgan sledding down a snow covered hill on his shield—it was all of his best work.

“I’m sorry if this is crossing a line—I promise the art just went up, no one has seen it, I wanted to get your permission first,” Tony rambled. He reached out to touch Steve’s arm, panicking that he had made a big mistake and Steve would be furious.

“This is the nicest thing someone has ever done for me, Tony,” Steve whispered, turning to face him with tears running down his cheeks. “That you think my art is worth this—to be seen by other people? I love it. Thank you.”

“Oh thank god,” Tony sighed with relief. “And god Steve—have you seen your art? You’re brilliant! If you gave up being Captain America to pursue a career as an artist, I think you would manage just fine.”

Steve’s hands came up to cradle Tony’s face gently—he looked down at him, eyes still glassy with tears, and a dopey-in-love expression most people only saw in movies. It was the exact reaction that Tony had dreamed of but was terrified he would not get. When Steve’s lips pressed against his he still jumped in surprise—their relationship was so new and Tony was certain he would never stop being thrilled by these kisses.

When Steve started to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeping across Tony’s lips, Tony broke away chuckling. He patted him on the cheek, grinning. “We’re not done just yet, big guy. We still have another stop before you pounce on me.”

“Oh,” Steve frowned, but then broke out into the most radiant smile Tony had ever seen. “I didn’t mean to get ahead of your super secret plan, shellhead.”

“Yes, and it will remain super secret in order to guarantee maximum levels of surprise that will result in awesome sex later,” Tony smirked, relishing the bright blush that grew on Steve’s cheeks.

Tony led them out of the gallery, locking up before starting to walk down the street, Steve curiously following behind with a confused look on his face. It would be easy to let him in on the plan—they were just going to dinner now, after all—but Steve’s confused look was too cute to get rid of. They were heading to Bamonte’s, one of the older classic Italian restaurants in Brooklyn, that also happened to be right down the street from the gallery. Tony was nothing if not a strategic planner when he wanted to be.

He was about to shove his hands into his pant pockets, a vain attempt to appear casual despite the anxiety surging through his body, when Steve reached out to hold his hand as they walked. Steve smiled shyly over at him, blushing again, and god could Tony get used to that blush. He would dedicate the rest of his life to finding ways to make Steve blush—it was beautiful.

The neon sign with green and red writing beckoned them, just a few more shops away, and Tony couldn’t help but get an excited bounce in his step. This was his absolute favorite Italian place to eat.

“Mr. Stark, a pleasure seeing you tonight. Would you like your usual booth?” the hostess asked as he and Steve entered the restaurant.

“Yes please, Ivonne, that would be lovely,” Tony replied, flashing her one of his award winning smiles. It clearly had the intended affect on her as she bowed her head to hide her smile and reddened cheeks.

Ivonne walked them back to the furthermost booth tucked away in the corner, dimly lit, and quite cozy. They sat down and Tony automatically ordered a bottle of their finest wine.

“Due limonate al basilico, per favore.”

It had been awhile since he last spoke Italian aloud, but given Steve’s wide eyes and pink cheeks, Tony figured he was as skilled at it as ever. When the waitress walked away to retrieve his request, Tony turned his full attention on Steve with a small smile.

“You speak Italian,” Steve said, pointing out the obvious like he tended to do.

“Yes, that happens when you have an Italian mother,” Tony teased. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard me use it before.”

“Well, I don’t know if you realize, but it is not often the two of use have been in environments where you would show off your second language affinity,” Steve teased right back. “So you’re a regular here? I wouldn’t have expected you to wander around Brooklyn often.”

“Well, you’ll continue to learn, I’m full of surprises Steve,” Tony said with devilish smirk. “Yeah—Jarvis used to take me here all the time when I was a kid. This was our hideout whenever Howard got particularly unbearable. And I kept coming here throughout adulthood. I tip really well, that’s probably why they remember me.”

“I think those Vogue magazine smiles might be another reason why they remember you here, Tony.”

Steve stared at him challengingly and Tony burst into laughter.

“Fair enough, Cap. But I bet we get even better service tonight since Captain Handsome is in the building with his bright blue eyes and bulging arm muscles.” Tony wiggled his eyebrows, his laughter getting louder once Steve flushed and made a feeble attempt at looking upset.

They ended up ordering a large spread of items to share—mussels and marinara sauce, stuffed mushrooms, spaghetti, and fried calamari. Tony listened fondly as Steve recounted old stories of running through Brooklyn causing trouble—Bucky bailing him out every time—and the countless women his best friend whisked away from him. Eventually, Steve asked Tony about Jarvis and what he was like—Tony loved telling stories about Jarvis. It always made a warmth bloom in his chest—the one good thing from growing up that he held onto tightly. Before he realized it, they had been there for three hours, talking and sipping on lemonades.

Despite not having a drop of alcohol, Tony felt drunk on his emotions.

“Sei così bello,” he whispered.

Even though Steve was not sure what it meant—he made an educated guess—and blushed furiously. Tony only swooned more at the sight.

“We should get going,” Tony sighed. “They close soon and I don’t want to impose.”

“Really? You don’t want to impose?” Steve said, but Tony could tell he was purposely being a little shit.

“Yeah, yeah. Sometimes I like to be considerate of other people’s schedules, thank you very much,” Tony huffed. He put a lot of money down on the table—way more than the food cost, by Steve’s judgement—and they walked back to the car.

The ride home was unusually quiet. Years of pent up tension on the precipice of release hanging in the air between them. It was quiet but electrifying. The silence was tantalizing and it left Tony vibrating with anticipation.

When they were in the elevator heading up from the garage under the compound, Steve finally broke the silence.

“Thank you for tonight, Tony. For the art, but also for taking me somewhere so special to you—somewhere you used to go with Jarvis. That’s…that’s really personal. And I really love knowing those things about you—seeing them, partaking in them. It means a lot to me,” he said softly.  
“And I loved sharing it with you. Thank you—uh, thank you for wanting to be apart of it,” Tony replied, his own cheeks finally going red from the sweetness of Steve’s words and the intensity of his blue eyes locked on him. The elevator dinged and opened up to the main floor hallway and Tony mustered up some semblance of courage, grabbing onto Steve’s hand, and leading him towards his suite. His heart was thudding in his ears and he was pretty sure his palms were sweaty, but if they were, Steve took pity on him and didn’t mention it.

He knew the significance of this moment was not lost on either of them—an intimate rendezvous literally a decade in the making—just moments away. He knew that was why he was so damn nervous, because this meant so damn much to him. Also, Steve’s body was carved like a god’s and Tony—well, he was covered in scars and not nearly as in shape as he used to be—he would be lying if he said he wasn’t a tad self-conscious.

They got inside Tony’s room, locking the door behind them, and just as Tony was about to say something Steve’s lips brushed up against his—sweet and gentle. When he parted his lips, Steve’s warm breath filled his mouth and he deepened their kiss. One of Steve’s hands curved around the back of Tony’s neck and the other rested tenderly on his cheek, holding him carefully in place as the kiss continued.

Tony’s mind short-circuited for a second as he realized this was happening—finally, happening—but then he realized he was being kissed but not kissing back and that had to change. He swept his tongue across Steve’s bottom lip, which earned a surprised noise from the back of Steve’s throat, and Tony took the opportunity to nudge his tongue into his mouth. Steve gave pleased, deep moan and Tony couldn’t handle it any longer—he pushed Steve up against the wall and pressed their bodies together.

He could feel Steve’s arousal hard against his own and based on the way Steve was shuddering into their kiss, Tony assumed he could, too. Finally, Tony broke away gasping for air, having significantly less lung capacity than a super soldier. He looked up at Steve, who happened to look absolutely debauched with swollen lips and pupils blown wildly wide—it was single handedly the most gorgeous thing Tony had ever seen.

“You’re amazing,” Steve breathed out, still cradling Tony’s head in his hands.

“I could say the same thing,” Tony huffed out. And then Steve was kissing him again, very slowly, to the point that it was almost agonizing. He wasn’t sure if that was Steve’s intention, to be torturously slow, but he figured it was worth it to savor every second of this experience. The arousal in his groin started begging for attention, causing him to begin rutting against Steve desperately. They both gasped into the kiss when their bulges brushed against each other.

“I think it’s time we move this party out of my doorway, Cap,” Tony stuttered out. But instead of a response, Tony felt himself get lifted up off the ground and he promptly responded by wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist. It was astounding how easily Steve walked them over to Tony’s king sized bed—it literally took him zero effort and that was even more of a turn on than he anticipated.

Steve carefully laid Tony onto the bed, positioning himself over him and reaching out to stroke his cheek with his thumb. Tony’s lips parted as he let out an enamored sigh—he found it unbelievable that someone wanted to be this slow and gentle with him. His entire life he was used to people being fast, rough, and painfully needy—and that did not only apply to activities in the bedroom. Tony knew that Steve, despite his muscular physique and power on the battlefield, was soft. He had seen him play with Morgan, save a puppy from being stuck in a fence—he knew Steve was gentle, but he had not foreseen that coming into play here.

It made something coil tightly low in his belly—a new, fluttering feeling that was stronger than anything he had ever felt before—it was immediately addicting. God—he loved him.

Steve took his time to learn every inch and curve of Tony’s body—as if he were trying to memorize it for later. Which he didn’t doubt, given Steve’s eidetic memory and artistic abilities. It left Tony feeling worshipped.

Tony tactfully slotted his leg between Steve’s—pressing his thigh against the prominent arousal in Steve’s pants. Steve let out a gasp that melted into a moan and Tony took the opportunity to draw him into another kiss. Except Tony was insistent on being rougher as he nipped at Steve’s lips, biting his bottom lip and pulling at it.

Steve broke their kiss to slip out of his bomber jacket and Tony sat up at bit while Steve worked his leather jacket off, too. Tony unbuttoned Steve’s dress shirt quickly—the skillfulness of his mechanic’s fingers coming incredibly handy. They shucked it off to the side with Tony’s AC/DC shirt that Steve eagerly yanked off—almost ripping it in the process.

Once both of their shirts were off, the feeling of their skin on skin erased any sense of insecurity Tony had been worried about before. Instead, he eagerly leaned up and started kissing along Steve’s neck—pausing to suck and bite, leaving marks even though they would disappear in a few minutes. Sometimes the serum was more of a pain in the ass than anything else, Tony mused.

Apparently out loud, because Steve laughed. “Good thing I can still leave marks on you, then.”

The huskiness in Steve’s voice sent a shiver down his spine. And, as if to prove his point, Steve bent down to suck at the hallow of Tony’s neck, leaving a delicious mark behind. When Steve broke away, Tony reached down to undo his jeans but ended up fumbling around. Thankfully, Steve moved help and slipped out of his jeans while Tony started to work his way out of his own pants. In just a few more, albeit clumsy, movements their naked bodies were flush against one another.

A shaky gasp escaped Steve’s lips as their erections brushed together. Tony relished seeing him like this—Steve Rogers, the man who usually had a tight lid on himself, being completely undone. It was mesmerizing.

“One second,” Tony said, out of breath, as he reached over to his side table drawer. After a moment too long of fumbling around, he pulled out a bottle of lube with a sigh of relief. He squirted some on his hand before wrapping it around both of their lengths together. Steve’s body stuttered forward, uncontrollably thrusting into Tony’s hand, which earned moans from both of them.

“Steve,” he gasped. “I’m going need your help for this next part, okay?”

He nodded, body still shaking from the intensity of their contact, and looked Tony in the eyes with what could best be described as love and uneasiness.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. It’s just me and you—together, yeah?” Tony said, giving Steve the most reassuring look he could manage while also languidly stroking their erections.

“Y-yeah, yeah,” Steve nodded, managing a small smile before letting out another moan.

Tony handed Steve the lube with his free hand. “Okay, I’m going to need you to work me open, okay? I’ll tell you if it hurts or if I need you to stop—but its easy, I promise.”

Steve nodded, so Tony continued. “You put lube on your fingers and start, slowly, one by one inserting and moving to work me open, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he replied, taking in a deep breath, and coating his fingers in lube. Tony stopped stroking them to give Steve the opportunity to focus on the task at hand. Carefully, he inserted one finger into Tony’s heat causing him to erupt into sounds of pleasure.

Unsurprisingly, it does not take Steve and his dexterous fingers long to work Tony open. Once he does, Tony reaches a wobbly hand down and lubes up Steve’s erection. They pause briefly, making eye contact—feeling the magnitude of this moment between the two of them. Tony could swear he heard both of their heartbeats thudding away.

“You ready?” Steve whispered. Tony nodded.

At first, it was slow—and a bit painful—but he adjusted quickly. Steve was gentle and acutely tuned in to Tony’s needs. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, before starting to move his hips in rhythm with Tony.

They fit together perfectly. Tony’s legs wrap around Steve, pulling him in deeper, and throws his head back in pleasure. It doesn’t take long for both of them to start coming undone at the seams. This is their first time together, after all, and the sensations are overwhelming. The strength of their emotional connection surging through them is what sends both of them toppling over the edge.

Tony’s body is the first to shudder into release—moaning Steve’s name over and over as he comes. Steve keeps rocking into him, losing any semblance of coherence he had left, babbling about how much he loved him. The feeling coils firmly in Steve’s groin and the explodes without warning. He shivers, forehead resting on Tony’s shoulder, gripping so hard on his hips that his fingers leave marks.

He rolls over, laying beside Tony, who cradles his face and gives him messy kisses. They lazily clean up their mess, whispering sweet nothings, and lulling into sleep in one another’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who continues to support me! We are almost done!!! Ahhh! How exciting. Please continue to share this work with any other SteveTony shippers, I have poured my heart into it.


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